Before I Leave You (Pt.61)

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Before I Leave You (Pt.61)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: 3 times you ask for help from the pack, and 3 times help is given.

Tags: Talk of trauma, Brief discussions of animal cruelty (not noodle), philosophical discussions, therapy talk, anxiety, non-sexual subspace, omegaspace, dom! Tae, mommy kink, trans! tae, brief sexual content, hints of free use, Assassin! Jimin, referenced crime, violence, possessive behaviors, nesting, biting,

W/c: 11.9k

A/n: I've made a little birthday list through amazon just like i did last year! although my birthday isn't until the 15th Thank you guys for always loving me and supporting me even when i'm not being the most productive. I hope this next year means i get to write for you guys more and more <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

In the darkness of the library room, you place a hand over your heart and feel its thunderous pace.

Alone in the midmorning hum, you sit on the floor. Trying to ease the ache there on your own before you go and try to get someone else to do it for you. Trying your hardest because now that you know how to try, you just can’t stop.

You have been to exactly 4 therapy sessions. And it’s already starting to help.

Your voice is soft and squeaky. The words are only for you. Eyes screwed shut tight. The same way someone would make a wish on birthday candles.

“You’re going to be so brave, even if you’re scared. You can be as scared as you want so long as you’re brave too.”

These are words you speak to yourself and for yourself. Syllables are shaky and voice warbly with the effort it takes to say them, but they do not fall on deaf ears, because the world Is listening.

Your heart doesn’t beat any slower, ignoring your demands. The world doesn’t spin any slower either. Trying is so scary.

Tae’s printer tucked beside her desk stops printing the dozen or so pages with a happy jingle. Maybe you should have just filled it out online. You thought it would be easier to have it laid out in front of you but now the walls of text just make you feel all the more intimidated.

Jin looks so simply capable of standing there by the kitchen sink, spending a little bit of extra time on deciding the dinner menu tonight because he simply has the time today. It's the first time he's had time to do something like this in a while.

He Looks at your fridge and debates a trip to H-mart. It’s kind of fun when the whole pack decides to go food shopping together. And since your bad day, he hasn’t had the chance to drag you along.

Jin thinks of hunting, of wolves running in a v. the modern version of it is the pack spread out working together to fill their carts. You and Tae taking everyone’s boba and pastry order and waiting in the long line at Tous les Jours, probably convincing her with puppy eyes to get one of the smaller cakes because they just look so pretty.

Namjoon will handle the fish and meat because he likes doing it. Hobi and Jimin will raid the snack aisle and get too many different kinds of gummies that Jin can’t really be mad over because the gummies are his favorite and they’re getting them for him. Jungkook will handle the sauces. He thinks of standing side by side with Yoongi as they bicker overproduce. The perfect way to spend a Sunday.

But Jiminie doesn’t always like going on Sundays- since it can get a little crowded. And to have any of them even a little bit upset doesn't fit with Jin's vision. Maybe if they just go a little bit later.

He hums to himself, oblivious to his audience. Adding things to his list that he sees missing.

The line on the floor sits, blue painter’s tape that seals him off from you. It still feels a little bit dangerous to toe along it even if he’s there. Rules are rules and Jin will make sure you follow them.

Jin’s a far cry from his usual put-together exterior, the hair on the back of his neck all pushed up not like someone had run their fingers through it or like he’s been tugging at it, uselessly stressed.

He doesn't mix his work and home life, and neither does Yoongi. It's a part of the uneasy truce they've struck. If they just don't talk about this, maybe it will go away. But occasionally the stress from it just seeps in like this.

He hasn’t had much time to himself recently, and even less time to spend with the pack. Jin has been dragged away every morning this week for early work meetings and made to stay late for briefings. He’d apologized for it profusely after getting home at 10 p.m. last night, but it wasn't the first movie night missed.

Namjoon was absent too, for a late surgery that dragged on and on. No one had been there to stop Jimin, Jungkook, and Hobi from wrestling each other a little too roughly. Or stop you and Tae from engaging playfully in a pillow fight. Yoongi’s too soft to be so contrary when the pups just want to have fun.

20 minutes ago the rest of the pack dragged him out of the nest and into the shower together. Under the guise of truly testing out every showerhead in the massive shower that Yoongi had constructed, "you mean you've never turned all of them on at once?"

"that wastes water!"

You'd declined, mostly because hobi was already in the bathroom with Namjoon, undressing, and certain things are meant for later.

mumbling that you wanted to go find Jin, and taken those few minutes to do this. You thought you heard some moaning from upstairs, and the sweet scent of your packmates says they're getting up to something. you probably have an hour until they're done.

Jin hadn't waited for the rest of the pack to wake to start the day, you wonder what stress woke him up early. You wish the distance didn’t make you feel guilty, but it does. You know that Jin’s not taking a step from your relationship. It’s just work, right? Jin’s not doing it on purpose.

Or is he?

The second you stand up to the doorway you wish you hadn’t, that you’d done this and just filed away the separate shame of not being enough just in case. The fear of rejection hangs like a low-forming cloud. Being brave is so hard.

It’s okay, maybe you shouldn’t take it personally. You’re hardly the most important person or the person Jin should make time for. He turns, eyebrows raising at you in the door, mouth hidden by the paper. Eyeing you expectantly. Your voice feels quieter, more strained than usual.

“Can I have your help with something?”

That’s how you and Seokjin end up sitting at the kitchen counter for the better part of the morning. H-mart and groceries forgotten, pouring over papers, lists, and deadlines written out in Seokjin’s neat script and your messy scrawl.

His hand presses between your shoulder blades, an affectionate touch. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart.” It doesn’t feel like he should be, because there are facts on the paper, dates, and thresholds that you know you just don’t meet. You twist your fingers over your lap.

“I should have thought about this at the beginning of the summer, I feel like I’ve already run out of time, now I’m gonna have to wait for next semester and-”

Namjoon makes a noise in his throat, stepping into the kitchen. Namjoon’s hair is wet and spikey, his body languid in that relaxed alpha way as he stoops to press a kiss to the back of your head and then Jin’s.

You fear you’re seconds away from the kitchen being inundated with packmates and you haven’t even talked to Yoongi about this. You almost want to cover up the sheets of paper and disappear. You feel approximately 2 inches tall when Namjoon’s eyes survey the mess.

“What’s this?”

Namjoon smells like nest-making, like the pack's pleasure, and it makes you shiver in your seat, all tingly. He smells similar to how he smelled a few nights ago;

After nest-making had finally gotten easier. after you'd finally started to get better, you and the other omegas had finally returned to your usual ritual.

Soft pushes at each other’s shoulders and sleepy scent marks over pillows with just Jungkook and Jin felt good while the others got ready for bed. Accompanied by the sound of Tae humming in the dressing room. The soft voices of Namjoon and Jimin as they chit-chat and brush their teeth.

Hobi watches, gaze darting away when he's caught staring, while he waters some of his plants that you've moved upstairs. turning at every giggle and purr. He watches as Jungkook bites the side of your shoulder, fingers skimming up your stomach to the bottom of your ribs, bare beneath your extra large t-shirt, you're not wearing much underneath. He stares too long, and his monstera overflows, watter dripping onto the floor.

"Shit-"

The curtains are drawn tight. The low alpha rumble of them excites your instincts; humming safe and protected. Humming see alpha, see what we can do for you as they wait to be invited into the nest. yoongi raises his eyebrows at hobi where he sits on the edge of the nest.

You and the other omegas are giggly and a touch closer to omegaspace than you usual. Fingers teasing at the expensive and new nesting materials but not lingering long on them when you have your pack, so close and underfoot. It's rare that you're all down at the same time.

The touches to each other's tummies make you feel softer and fuzzier. Nuzzling along the divots of Jungkook’s, nibbling when you can find something to get between your teeth. Jin’s is pillow soft and squishy like a marshmallow. And you rub your face into it over and over again, trying to get as much of your scent on him as possible, whining when it's just not enough.

“You like my stomach almost as much as the alphas do” Jin had teased, fingers dancing along your spine. His cheeks pink where Jungkook had actually bitten them, all of you are a little bitey.

“Can’t help it- so ’soft.” You’d slurred, half drunk on his pheromones.

Yoongi had waited patiently, eyes darker and warmer on you and Jin as you'd whined. But he'd been the first to be incorporated into the careful rings of fabric. His body arranged once you deemed the nest ready for packmates.

All of your hands lingering over him: his pink knees, his big hands, the curl of his too-long hair at the nape of his neck. Jungkook hummed and tugged at his pants until he shucked those off too. Fresh claiming marks sucked to his thighs, the same treatment that each of your packmates gets when your omegan instincts are roused.

Hobi had even tolerated your fussing with a small smile, when you’d nosed along his collar bones, ramrod straight and let you tug his sweatshirt off for yourself. Namjoon had kept you on a tight leash, fingers scruffing you. when you'd squirmed closer, "Alright, I think this nibbling has gone far enough."

Pheromones thick and comforting, You’re not the only one a little obsessed with Jungkook’s and Jin’s stomachs, for some reason it gives you pause, when you watch him lying prone, watching as Tae mouths at his stomach shirt pulled up, Namjoon letting out these little grumbly purrs.

Once Jin had elected that he was done with nest making, he’d nosed along your shoulders, pulling each of you down for a very thorough scent mark like he was verifying all of you were there, unharmed and happy before he’d been able to fall asleep. You’d curled up close by the wall feeling safe.

You hadn't been awake to year Namjoon and Yoongi's quiet conversation, "do you think this could be pre-heat?"

yoongi's pout had been a little too sullen, a reminder that as much as he's your mate, there are still things he doesn't know about you- what heat and pre-heat looks like one of them. you still haven't gone into heat, even though your last healthcheck went through without pause.

"i don't know. there's still Jin and Jungkooks skipped heats too- maybe its going to happen slowly." namjoon had just pet over the top of your head, "if it is, we'll be ready for it." you'd continued to sleep on, unaware and safe.

But the way that Jin’s looking over the papers is not safe, your anxiety climbing higher and higher. Especially when Namjoon picks up the tuition sheet.

Namjoon’s throat is thick with pride, this this is exactly the kind of thing that he’d been trying to suggest to Jin a few weeks ago. His eyes are a little shiny when he smiles at you. “We can help in any way you need.”

“It’s just community college Namjoon.” Namjoon leans in to kiss your cheek, the warmth under his lips foretelling your embarrassment. You are embarrassed to be seen trying. Embarrassed at the idea of failure.

“But still- we can help with tuition.” Namjoon is filled with glorious purpose, none of his pups will want for anything, and this is a real plan for the future. He's about ready to write a recommendation letter himself.

“Ah” you blink, “I can pay for it myself- Yoongi and I have-”

You were worried about this; talking about it. Acknowledging the elephant in the room. The reason why you and Yoongi don’t have day jobs, is what your blood and years of pain paid for.

“Nonsense- we can loan you the money. If that’s what you're worried about,” Namjoon is already considering this another cost of being a pack alpha, and it’s not even that much, the tuition honestly isn't expensive, at least not to Namjoon. Sure- he might not go around buying you nesting pods any time soon but this is important. This on paper in front of you, is a hint at a real future.

You press your hands flat across the counter, unable to meet his eyes. “No- what I’m saying is I don’t need you to.”

That prompts an entirely different kind of questioning. Namjoon and Jin pour over the documents that Moonbyul had dropped off what feels like months ago along with Hobi’s car. The documents that you’d shoved in the back of a closet are now under scrutiny. Routing codes and account numbers for a set of Swiss bank accounts with dizzying balances. Deeds to houses on the other side of the country and the globe.

Jin looks them up on Zillow just to know how much they’re worth. His mind reeling with the number of attached zeros. The penthouse, the brownstone, the beach house that you’ve never been to off the coast of some foreign country (is Mykonos in Greece or Italy?). The numbers scrawled on napkins add up.

By the end of it, Jin’s hair is more than pulled through. Plush lips pursed and bitten. As far as he can tell this is all by the book, these assets do not belong to the criminal empire but they do belong to you and Yoongi. Jin's FBI brain just can't shut off, not now and not ever.

The truth is, this is more money than any of them have ever dreamed of having, even Namjoon- who makes well into the 6 figures. This is enough money for everyone in the pack to quit their jobs and retire. They probably wouldn't ever run out even if they were foolish with the money, but even then it might last until they're 50.

He gestures at Namjoon wildly. “You need to quit your job,” you sip at the lemonade that Namjoon got up to get you a few minutes ago.

Nodding, teasing. “Yeah Joonie, become my live-in alpha, stay home with me like Taetae does now.”

Your and Yoongi’s accounts are mostly joint, the loose division between Geumjae's multi-million-dollar life insurance policy payout and Yoongi’s inheritance of the min family fortune only in mind mostly. But you’re on each other’s accounts as mates anyway.

Jin should have known, he knows Yoongi paid for the house in cash.

Namjoon laughs, dimples flashing, stooping to kiss your forehead. “You’re supposed to be my sugar baby.”

“We can trade off and on if it makes you feel better.”

~-~

It’s a soft night when you seek Jin out next. The blinds are drawn against the streetlights outside. The cul-de-sac is empty except for Noodle, hunting little mice in the brush. Inside the house with lip-up yellow windows, the pack is in various spaces of dress and undress, asleep and awake.

The one consistency as always, is the love.

The last time you checked, most of the pack was in the back room. Jin had unanimously decided for all your sakes that Jungkook's video games should go back there, the farthest away from the stairwell where sounds have a habit of echoing. Where their shouts and cries of dismay will not disturb the rest of the pack quite so much.

When you last peered in, Jungkook had Yoongi in his lap and Jimin and Tae were screaming and bickering over the right way to play something called prop hunt. Hobi reigns victorious with a green controller held over over a bowl of popcorn balanced between his crossed legs. They don't always do this, and you're resistant to sour their time with your lack of knowledge and lack of interest.

Namjoon is passed out upstairs, tired from his surgery today; a marathon 14-hour one to detangle a tumor from a patient's brainstem. Luckily successful or else Namjoon might have been weighed down by something more than just exhaustion.

You’d gone up there briefly to shower with him because he honestly needed someone to make sure he didn’t fall asleep in the shower but he’d been adamant that he didn’t need help. You’d asked ever so sweetly if you could do it with him for company. You missed out on the pack shower yesterday you whine, Namjoon has a hard time saying no when you pout.

Namjoon was too tired for anything salacious in nature and also too tired to protest against some grooming. You’d made him sit on the bench along the wall and washed his hair and body. Groaning and resting his head against your chest where you’d stood between his legs. He’d collapsed into bed so tired he could hardly mumble a thank you, but you’d still bent over and kissed his head before joining the others downstairs.

It felt good, to take care of him a little. Dr.Rima suggested that you make a bit more effort to spend time one-on-one with your packmates, and it’s been mostly a good thing.

You know soon you’ll all be up there. Cuddled to his chest probably, tired Joonie cuddles are the best when he lays all soft and heavy without worrying that he's going to crush you. But not yet. You’re not looking for the others shouting in the other room, you’re looking for a different sort of company.

Jin is in the living room, his glasses down on the edge of his nose as his eyes indulge in a copy of psychology today. There are several pages already flipped down and bookmarked already. You stand in the hallway. The pajamas you wear are some of the first Jin and Namjoon ever gave you, the white top and bottom dotted with red hearts.

They used to look so pristine and clean but love and time have done its damage. There’s an orange stain on the middle from some tomato soup a few weeks ago, and the bottoms are a little discolored from a late-night trip to the beach that left the hem soaked deep with sand. Even though the pajama set has seen better days, the non-irritating crepe fabric is worn in all the right places and it's still your favorite.

All things given with love eventually wear out (to love it to be changed) so you won’t be too upset about it. At first, you think that Jin doesn’t notice that you’re standing there, that you’re watching him, but he wordlessly holds out an arm without looking up from his magazine.

You collapse with him onto the couch. Lining your bodies up your bare ankle hits his. A small purr builds in his chest as a sleepy hello. “The others are being noisy,” you complain, it’s true, from here you can hear Hobi shout something like “hyung that is so not fair-“ and Jungkook shrieking “Kill him!! Kill him!!!”

“Want me to make them quiet for you sweetheart?” He asks, kissing your cheek softly. He shifts his position so that he can hold the magazine with just one hand and his other can stroke up and down your arm. Encircling your body in one smooth movement. You don’t pay the copy of Psychology Today much mind.

“No, just want to be quiet with you.” You stretch out and Jin parts his legs for you to recline into him. Letting out a small heavy breath when you lie your weight against his chest nosing at his throat. He continues to read in silence while you nose at his throat, mouthing sleepily and pupish at his scent gland.

He makes a noise, legs stretching out properly. But he has no other reaction until you ask, “What are you reading?”

Jin lets out a heavy breath, and the pages make a fluttering sound, “A debrief of a study that happened before pesky things like ethics was involved with psychological testing," You huff a soft laugh against this chin and Jin rests his cheek against the top of your head.

"It’s a little heavy, but I think you'd actually find it interesting because of-" Jin breaks off, and that word, the dirty one, therapy, hovers on the edge of his tongue. He looks back at the magazine and shifts you more properly on top of his chest. Your hand's toy with the button on his sleep shirt, undoing it and then another one. "Want me to read it out to you?”

You peck below his chin on his neck, and you can feel Jin’s body twitch beneath you, his hand going a little firmer. "Sure, just not the whole thing” The words on the page are small small. "You can just tell me what it’s about if that's easier."

Having you suck at his scent gland is distracting, and Jin’s voice goes a little deeper as you continue to lavish it with little kisses. the tops of his ears heating as he talks. Jin's neck has always been sensitive.

“In a time before ethics in the 1950s, in an effort to quantify willpower, a psychologist out of John Hopkins conducted an experiment on rats.”

You continue to kiss, and suck, teething on his neck, all cuddled ontop of him. Only half paying attention to what he’s saying, your hips shifting to nestle one of his thighs between. Not pressing down, not just yet.

“There were two test groups. The first group of rats was left in approximately 12 inches of water and left to drown."

You stop your shifting, pulling back a little to look at Jin, but he keeps reading. Lips carving the words roughly from the air in summary. Attention fixed on the paper in front of him, eyebrows pulled together.

“The average rat could only last around 30 minutes before drowning but-“ Jin swallows, and you feel it against your throat. “If the testers took them out just before they lost energy and dried them off…If they gave them a moment to rest, something to eat, before putting them back in the water they’d last hours longer. Sometimes a full day before eventually scumming.

"This only led them to one conclusion: If the rats believed they were going to be saved again they would try longer to survive, tapping into a hidden source of willpower. Hope has a dirastic increase on survival rates.” He still hasn’t looked at you. Index finger sliding over the last paragraph.

He continues to read his magazine, a hand loosely wrapped around your waist. Palm rubbing up and down your back. You shrivel your nose at the paper, “It sounds cruel.”

“It was.”

You think of the rats, their dried fur, the hands that saved them, and the hands that hurt them. Indistinguishable from one another. You shiver. Jin doesn't look at you, still at the magazine.

“This article is trying to relate it to patient outcomes, especially when it comes to giving therapy to military members half way through deployment. It’s never been replicated; a lot of people don’t think it’s factual anymore.”

“What do you think?” Jin doesn’t turn to you, instead turning the page to another article, this one about new antipsychotics for schizophrenia.

“I think it’s hard to test for things like hope.”

You pause for a second and then continue to drag your lips up Jin’s throat, and the magazine lands with a flop on the floor all the stories about rats and dying things and both of Jin’s arms embrace you.

“I’m being terribly rude; I normally talk about all this stuff with Namjoon.”

You huff, smile pressed to his skin. It’s easy to forget about the rats when you’ve got him close and giving you his full attention now. You’ll think about it later you’re too sleepy now, a little scent drunk too. Jin’s body is comfy and soft beneath yours, you nuzzle closer, hair getting messed on account of the rigorousness of your scent marking.

You unbutton the last button on his sleep shirt and push it away so that you can loop your arms around his waist, and the next breath that fills Jin's diaphragm feels shaky. you like jin's chest, his stomach, theres something about cuddling close to him like this that makes you feel taken care of.

You don't know that Jin likes it when you touch him like this, with a certain level of entitlement. Of course, you're allowed to disrobe him on the couch, of course, his body belongs to you in this way. He's your pack omega for a reason, Jin's body and scent belong as much to you as any of the other packmates. Any of his packmate's wants will be handled just as routinely as this. If you want him bare, he'll undress for you right here.

It's a good thing that he closed the blinds earlier.

Your pout makes him want to give you everything, Jin's hands tighten on your waist, pulling the hem of your pajama shirt up too so that your bare stomachs can rest against each other. Fuck. something about this always makes Jin's skin feel hot and taught. “You are.” you whine, pecking his lips sloppy and needy, licking into them a bit, "make it up to me?"

Jin’s hands go hard on your back, fluttering along your spine to the back of your neck. And his scent blooms sweet underneath you. “Ah Jungkook’s been rubbing off on you. My spoiled spoiled little pup.”

Jin’s hair against your neck tickles and you giggle as he pulls you more firmly on top of him, after the first kiss you’re not thinking about him ignoring you in favor of reading, and after the 5th you don’t even remember what the article was about.

You’ll think about it later, for now, the scent of the two of you sweetens in the room. Until it fills the house, so sweet that even Namjoon upstairs stirs, growling softly.

You'll think about it later.

~-~

Your therapy days have become something of a celebration. Is it weird that you're surprised by that? Of course, the pack would come to celebrate you getting better. Of course they would linger and reward you for trying to hard.

They’ve always liked to make big things out of small ones. Your therapy sessions have become mini-impromptu dates. Each of them takes their time and their day to take you.

It’s important to prioritize one-on-one time in large packs. To still date even when they’re very little wooing left to do. Even if everything sort of feels like a date with them. the intention is different when you name it.

They take their turns going with you. Namjoon when he has a rare day off. To the botanical gardens after just to give you some reason to get out of the cold and into the humidity. You take Hobi back there when it’s time for your next one.

The gardens help keep any seasonal depression at bay, with all the trees skeletal and the sky grey more often than not. You go with Tae the next time and then to a bookstore after. You get a new notebook while she looks at the covers with wide beholden eyes.

Today, you don’t know if you’ll get something so sweet after.

Today doesn't feel like the rest of the therapy sessions. The sessions with Dr. Rima aren't always easy. You don’t know why this visit in particular has you anxious but it does. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, a vague tingle in your fingertips. You can't not think about it. It's a little maddening, feeling like you don't have control over your thoughts.

You get ready hours earlier than you need to because you need something to do. But then find yourself with nothing to do. Waiting. Pacing.

You pick at your nailbeds until they bleed. Bad, bad pup.

The breath in your chest is a little taught and tight, like an overfilled balloon. There is no one but Tae home today, although Jimin will be here soon to take you to your appointment. You don’t want to feel this way. But you don’t know how to solve it on your own. You don’t want to disturb Tae.

Tae being home all the time now has been a good thing generally. But it’s also been distracting for both of you. Why would you spend time helping Yoongi with the house when you can cuddle up with her in her library room or nest with her upstairs? Why would she spend her time writing when she's got you underfoot?

Yesterday you did just that, Until the little kisses sloppy kisses, and nervous touches turned less little and more lingering. Hands firm and possessive, although there was no one for Tae to possess you from. moving against each other until the seat of your pajama bottoms were soaked through with slick. Until Tae's fingers stopped rubbing over you, stopped teasing. Crooning, "Oh pup, let mommy fix it."

It was the first time since Jungkook and your little mishap, that you'd sought out sex from Tae. It left you feeling glowy and a little dumb. A little ravenous for her touch, you wince when you think of how demanding you'd gotten. Tae's knot had left you feeling sore in a good way. A faint tenderness between your legs tempts you again to nest the day away.

Baby steps. Dr. Rima reminded you last session.

But you know you distract Tae from her writing. She'd said as much, cuddled to the side, fingers tucked into your cunt not even fucking you with them, just holding you. Grinning dumbly. "If you don't keep this sweet little hole away from me, I'll never get anything done. I don't know how Yoongi does it."

After yesterday, you know that she wants to get some real work in. She'd left the breakfast table saying that much. You've heard her leave a handful of times since then. To get water or snacks.

It’s not always easy, going to therapy, not feeling upset about it or vaguely afraid. You thought the instinct against being vulnerable had been trained out of you by the pack. it's hard to unlearn old habits.

Part of you wants to run away from her, not towards her as you knock on the library door. There's a soft throaty noise that you recognize as Tae's, inviting you to come in. She clicks away on her computer, not looking up at you.

You stand there in the doorway rocking on your heels for a moment. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and her headphones are off one ear. Sometimes she gets so into her writing that her music shuts off and she forgets to turn it on. There is no hum coming from them and yet, she does not turn to you when you stand in the doorway.

“Tae?”

She does not react, and your shoulders curl in, the ache of being a bother intensifying. Her clicking. You waiting. You wait until you can't any longer, the fear building-

“Mommy?”

Tae stops immediately, her wide brown eyes coquettish in how she looks at you (like she doesn’t know exactly what you want. What you need). Her eyes flick down to your knocking knees.

She opens her arms and you fall into her, quickly you rush to be enveloped by her touch. Needy. You are always so needy for her. With Tae, it's hard to be self-conscious about it.

Since she’s been spending so much time at home, she’s taken to wearing flimsy little nightdresses at all hours of the day. Today's dress is white with cream-colored lace, down to her knees, rucked up by your sitting. fuzzy slippers and a thick robe keep out the chill. She probably doesn't even realize that it's midday, as focused and as dedicated as she is.

"Ah, baby pup,"

You nuzzle into the collar where her robe has soaked up her scent more. You know she kinda misses getting ready every day, that she misses doing her makeup and leaving for work like the rest of them. You’d promised that you’d accompany her to a coffee shop one of the days this week that you didn’t have therapy. Just so that she could get out of the house.

All of this takes Adjustments. You’re both learning to ask for what you want and to endure what you know you need. Like the therapy sessions.

The clock says that you have exactly 2 more hours until you need to leave with Jiminie but he’s not home yet. He’s not home yet and neither is Yoongi but your brain is swimming. Knots in your tummy. You don't want to go but you don't want to not go either. You don't know how to stop feeling this way, so torn up about it.

You need a settling.

“I don’t want to bother you, if you want to go back to writing you can- I’ll just-"

Tae catches your chin in her manicured hand. “What do you need.”

It’s more of a command than a question. You sit there and Tae’s looking. Scrutinizing you, breaking you down with just a single look. Your arms tighten around her shoulders, clinging to her when it becomes clear your neediness hasn’t escaped her notice. This thing clawing at your chest to be settled, to be constrained, is something she can handle.

Your response comes out of you in a rush, a franticness to your scent that isn’t becoming of Tae’s softest little pup.

“Can you make my brain shut off please?”

half plea and half polite. Tae’s hand instantly laces through your hair, tugging hard. A taught whine bursts from you. Any other time you’d be ashamed of the noise you let out but she only purrs in contentment.

She pulls on your hair gently, making you arch your neck until you can't anymore like she's testing how far you're willing to contort your body to obey her touch. Teasing your shoulders apart, making you not hunch without you consciously deciding to shift your posture (one of these days, Jin and Tae are going to posture train you).

The kiss she plants in the hollow of your throat is nothing if not understanding. You're so pliant and malleable when you're overwhelmed. The breathless whine you let out is not sexual, there simply isn't room for any more wanting when the fullest breath of Tae’s dominance rushes over you like a wave.

Tae never raises her voice and never snaps. She doesn't need to to get you to do what she wants. She doesn't need to force it. Your eyes are glassy when she lets go, smiling down at you as her fingers linger over your lips before she cups your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the joint until it opens. There you go pup, breathe.

“I’m going to tell you what to do, and it’s your job to do as I say pup, do you understand?”

“Yes Mommy.”

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you that isn’t 'Yes Mommy' or 'No Mommy'. It’s not your job to speak right now.” That somehow, being given permission feels like a relief. That's why you're anxious, isn't it? You want to go non-verbal today, but can't because of the session. Tae gives you relief in the form of permission.

“Yes Mommy.”

“Good, now sit on the floor.” Your knees go weak before you even hear the full sentence, and she grabs your arms hard when you stop to drop. Making your descent more controlled.

“Wait,” you hold your breath while Tae stands, retrieving one of the pillows on the couch and setting it down for your knees. She really ought to have thought of this before and set up the dark alcove beneath her desk with something softer, a thick cushion (If only she had a pup bed for you). The space is dark and warm, next to the heater, you drop, and Tae scoots closer, hands still on your upper arms as she guides you.

“Rest your head on Mommy’s thigh, stay put and quiet until Minnie gets home. I’ll cuddle you when you’re done. To bring you back up”

Your lips form the words without you having to think them, your brain already fluttering down softly into a lower state of concern and anxiety. Rhere is nothing that matters but this, there is only her. Her hands haven’t really left your hair, long nails scratching dully against your scalp. “Yes Mommy.”

“What do you say.” Tae’s words are clean and precise. No mincing them as she holds your chin and makes you look at her, finger fluttering across your lower lip and freeing it from between your teeth. "If you need to bite something, bite me. Not yourself."

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Good girl.”

You rest your cheek against Tae’s thigh, not peering up her skirt because you don’t think she’d allow you to. It’s hazy and soft here, in the quiet under her desk. The light is warm and so is this place. Her warm calf pressed to your front, your fingers grabbing blindly at the hollow of her knee, her foot just beneath you curled around her thigh.

She needs both hands to write but you wrap your arms around her leg. Smooth. Your fingers skim up and down the skin there hugging her to your chest weakly, resting your cheek on her thigh. “That’s a good pup get closer.”

Encouraged to cling You move until Tae's leg is pressed from your core to your chin, sideways between her thighs, resting your cheek on the edge of her skirt, between her hip and thigh, looking up at her. Just looking.

The hormone shots make Tae’s scent glands sensitive and swollen under your touch, and you’re brazen enough to lap at the ones on her thighs, soothing them. You can smell that they're hurting, somehow your instincts tell you. her scent only smells strange where where injects them, a little artificial, a little sour from the pain. but mostly it's just Tae.

Your fingers curling the hollow of her knees, breathing in deep. Your brain is a mess of mommy mommy mommy over and over again like a hymn and prayer. Her long manicured fingers press at your scalp scratching. And your eyelashes flutter shut.

"Is this good my love?” She asks hesitantly, if you were more aware you might hear a bit of insecurity in her voice. You can only whine in response.

There is only Tae, her clacking on her computer, backspacing a bunch, and then writing more. A quiet hum under her breath. And the occasional gentle pet over the top of your head when she reads through certain paragraphs and doesn't need the use of both her hands.

you don't know when you close your eyes or if you fall asleep, the state you enter is kind of like that, if dissociation could be pleasant, it feels like that. Honed in, every single one of your instincts with a laser focus on her, everywhere you touch, humming and alive and as necessary as the breath in your lungs.

Soft huffs of breath tease the hem of her skirt. And the next time you're aware, it's because there's another scent in the air.

Vanilla, the smoky sort coats your tongue, complimenting your mommy's scent so beautifully. Enough that your tongue sticks out between your pressed teeth to taste it in the air.

Alpha, another one, not your mommy is here and you tilt your face up and into the light. You hear the soft smacking sound of brief kisses, and then another hand on your head running through your hair, tugging you to look up at him. Tae taps your tongue playfully and you open your mouth, wanting to suck.

"Ah pup, you're too small for that right now," You look up.

Jimin has his hand softly tangled in Tae's hair, tentative- like the touch has been negotiated- like he's not sure he's allowed. Tae's scent has not sweetened, it hasn't even mellowed out.

Jimin blinks once, twice, and then a third time at the sight that he sees. Eyes wide and glassy, scent sweet, not in that pleasure or I’ve just cum way that’s semi-addictive to the alpha's. He rolls him roll his tongue against his teeth when he can scent it. This kind of pleasure is a different kind of fullness.

A happy shiver works its way up Jimin’s body, and Tae hums, she’s only used to seeing him shiver for her.

“You’re in no state to go to leave the house” but Jimin’s voice is not disapproving, if anything it’s honey velvet fond. Tae shifts back and you move with her, letting out a small whine at the sudden vacancy against your front where you’d been hugging her to your chest.

it’s easily extinguished when Jimin picks you up and places you on the couch where she’s waiting. Alpha's so good and strong, your instincts pur and Jimin freezes. He hasn't heard you purr so much as Tae has, as the others have. But it makes goosebumps rise on his arms.

You whine, squirming closer. When he supports you.

“Hold on pup,” but Tae is already smearing the scent blockers on. You whine, but you know she needs it if you want to be clear-headed by the time you have to leave. Scent drunk and pupish is not an adequate mindset to get the most out of therapy. And you're reminded of that by Jimin, that's why Alpha's here isn't he? That's why he's softly detangling your hair, asking you questions until you answer with more than mumbles.

Your hair has fallen over your face and jimin tries unsuccessfully to do more than tuck it behind your ear.

She laughs, and it's half real, "Minnie. Like this." Jimin flushes, but you sit, gladly made a puppet while she teaches him how to braid. over. under. Tae puts some distance between herself and you until the room has stopped spinning, until you stop smelling only alpha and other things too.

You're much more clear headed when Tae presses a glass of cold water into your hands. Jimin listlessly stimming up and down your arms, the gentle tugging making you blink back the haze. Still quiet, but mostly back to yourself.

Jimin puts you in Tae’s coat, one of the cute quilted ones with a floral outside, warm and snuggly. Tae kisses your flushed cheeks in the doorway, promising more of…whatever that was when you get home.

Jimin always smells so nice, a nice mixture of cigarette smoke, barely hidden and washed away, and his vanilla musk, warm against your nose. He buckles you into the front seat when you sit, leans over to kiss your temple, hand hovering on your knee.

Minnie has always been a touchy alpha and the drive to the therapist’s office is no different. He always gets so close when it’s just the two of you, like he no longer has the others to distract him or needs to make up the lack of protection with touch.

You are just as quiet as you are close on the way to therapy, Jimin's hand loosely twined with yours on the driver's seat. Your phone buzzes occasionally.

Kookoocachoo (3:22): Hey just realized, it might be easier for me to like meet you and Minnie there, rather than for Yoongi to come all the way here and pick me up from work like usual???

Yoomie (3:23): Are you sure? It's really no trouble.

Kookoocachoo (3:24): Yeah makes no sense, I can run it in like 15 minutes!

Jinnie <3 (3:24): Just be careful!

And then in your private chat, there is this:

Yoomie (3:27): Fuck must have just missed you.

Yoomie (3:27): just got home.

Yoomie (3:28): Make sure Jimin texts when you're on the way home.

You know that Yoongi feels like he needs to come with you to every session, but honestly it's okay. The quiet with Jimin. It's a little nice. Not nice in the way that you don't miss him (because you always sort of miss Yoongi, even if he's barely an inch away). But just like when it's just you and Yoongi when it's just you and Jimin; neither of you needs to pretend.

You (3:30): It's okay! Minnie will take good care of me.

You (3:30): See!

You send him a picture of your clasped hands, Jimin's face a little blurry from how much the car is moving.

Yoomie (3:30): Cute. Good 😚

Yoomie (3:31): Literally I can come to meet you. It's no trouble.

You (3:32): 😑

He leads you inside with his hand laced in yours. Jimin’s commanding aura directs other alphas into looking away when their gazes happen to stray to you. Staying close, scanning the crowd for potential threats, tugging you along with your hand behind him quiet.

You and Jimin are often quiet when you’re together, but it’s that kind of soft understanding silence. Jimin speaks with his body.

You’re quiet when he kisses your forehead when your fingers tangle loosely with his, his fingers listlessly stimming with yours tapping tap tap across your knuckles in the waiting room, taking your coat when you tug at the sleeves, small and overheated. Small, you have small hands like his but he likes it, he taps your knuckles and you tap his rings.

“I like this one,” you say in the quiet of the yellow waiting room.

“You do?” Jimin says, already planning on either buying you a matching one or wearing it more often. You tap it again.

But it’s comforting, the way his fingers tease at the hair at the edge of your hairline. Constantly touching you like he’s reinforcing the idea that you’re there still safe. The contact is just firm enough for any lingering fear to fade.

He gets more antsy when the time comes for you to go into the room with Dr.Rima. Just like Yoongi did, he won’t leave the waiting room for the entirety of your hour-long appointment. Jimin whips his hands on his black jeans as he stands and shakes Dr.Rima's hands.

“I’m sorry she might not be in the best-”

You bound up to Dr.Rima and hug her loosely around her waist, she recoils slightly, not upset, just surprised. Most of her omega patients go physically affectionate after a few sessions. Her eyes go wide as you start to prattle on about Tae. Taetae this and Taetae that.

“Oh!” but Dr. Rima isn’t at all upset that you’re a touch too close to omegaspace to have a coherent conversation. Even though Jimin apologizes again and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you away. “That’s quite alright, I suspected something like this would happen since we talked about O.s. last session.”

Jimin lingers, worries over letting you go through the door. It only takes a few seconds in her presence for your brain to right itself. Beta- not your beta but a strange one. The pheromonal response is near instant. You step away, eyes more lucid, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

Dr.Rima laughs and Jimin can’t help himself either, an unwilling grin cracking his smile open.You apologize, but Dr. Rima just shakes her head and tells you there's nothing to be sorry for.

“It's not all that abnormal. A lot of omegas who have been in traumatic experiences fall into omegaspace abnormally often, like 30-40 percent more often than omegas who haven’t-”

~-~

After the therapy session, you’re much more clearheaded. You didn’t cry this time but then again you’ve only cried for half of them. It's a calm clean feeling. You find Jimin again in the waiting room, texting on his phone, you've got half a hundred unanswered notifications. The simple contact of a hello hug is just firm enough for the last bit of discomfort and anxiety you had to fade.

“Good?” he asks, low alpha growl soothing,

“Yeah” answer, the reassurance simple but enough. You have plans to meet up with Jungkook at the coffee shop across the street- not the one downstairs, separated by a narrow stretch of road that’s closed on the weekends for foot traffic.

It’s gotten colder in the time of your therapy appointment, and the wind rushes over you funneled down the narrow streets. The sweatshirt of Hobi’s you wear today is stiff and dark, non-descript. Jimin tugs you under his arm, even after he puts Tae's jacket back on you.

“They’d kill me if they saw you shivering.” You nuzzle closer. And you sense he’s burning with questions. He keeps them in until you're in line at the cafe. It's got a dark tile floor and a similarly dark interior, minimalistic and vaguely retro with a row of bar stools and a line of black pleather booths. A few people are in line in front of you and a few behind, no one who might matter overhearing.

“What do you talk about with her?”

“A lot of things, Geumjae mostly.” Jimin wilts a little. His eyes turning a little darker with shame. You wish you were able to more accurately predict his emotions and make the truth less lethal. But somehow, you think Jimin would know if you tried to lie, you won’t spare him honesty for guilt. That’s not a fair trade.

Your foot skitters across the tile. Kicking the rough edge uselessly before your feet. “It’s good to like, talk it out with someone who’s not you guys, mostly because I worry it burdens you.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it burden us?” you sigh, and you do not want to pull your punches.

“I don’t know. Why haven’t you talked it out with Tae yet?” Jimin does not wince. Jimin just looks at you and hands over his black card to the barista.

“What do you want?”

“Just a latte,”

“A latte and a triple shot,” Jimin jabs a finger at the glass cage where they keep the pretty pastries, naming half a dozen things.

“I didn’t say I wanted one,” Jimin raises his eyebrow, and you melt a little into him. Because yeah, you want one even if you didn't say it, you're just being contrary.

Leaning, he takes your weight, guiding you to stand away from the counter when he takes his card back. To the barista, you must just look like any other clingy couple. Something about Jimin makes you forget that you have an audience. Something about Jimin makes it feel like it’s always just you. His fingers are calloused (probably from a gun) and cold from walking outside. Clutching your hand softly.

“Tae and I will talk.” He sighs, but it sounds like the truth. He sounds so sure of himself. “We will just- I can tell she doesn’t want to talk with me. I never want to do anything she doesn’t want to do. You get that right?”

You think about Jimin- everything he’s ever done, your afternoon in the backroom where he and you made the painting in Tae’s library room. How giving he was then and how giving he always is. Jimin gives and gives and now looking at him, the curve to his shoulders, you wonder what he feels like he has to make up for.

Why he can't be the one to ask? To make it better. You know it's probably just respect (respect for Tae's wants and needs) but maybe sometimes respect gives too much distance. Maybe there is no love without mutually assured destruction.

Maybe you shouldn't be so critical of him. He got you pastries, even though you didn’t ask, just in case you wanted them.

His eyes are downcast, and when your coffee comes out, he sniffs at it before asking. “Milk? Sugar?” He hands it over and takes it back after you’ve taken a sip.

“Yeah,” Jimin pops off the lid and sets it up, not letting you lift a finger. Hitting the packets against the counter to break them up. He rips the sugar packets with his teeth.

Jimin speaks more as he pours them out, “Even if she’s still mad at me, I’ll wait until not being mad at me is what she wants. I can handle her being mad and disappointed, what I can’t handle is her not loving me. If she didn’t care at all, I’d be more worried. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”

“I don’t’ think this waiting is helping anyone.”

Jimin takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ll talk to her, if you think I should. I’ll bring it up if you think I’m letting it stew too long.”

You nod and sip your coffee, your phone jingles, and you look at it, it's just Jungkook, letting you know he's leaving the gym now. The selfie of him makes you smile. The jingle of your phone is interrupted by a similar jingle. The door to the coffee shop opened.

When you look up you almost do a double take, but the face sinking through the crowd enters just like the winter chill.

Moonbyul is absent from her usual entourage, not Hyejin, wheein, or Solar. wearing a thick wool coat over a smart 3 peice suit. She smiles showing her teeth a little too much. your smile falls just as quickly.

"Minnie"

Jimin is not quick enough to stand before she's upon you. he's up and out of the booth before he even sees who and what is making you scared. Jimin stands and growls, the sound alerting a few of the other people in the coffee shop. But Moonbyul just tuts. "Down puppy."

You find yourself lost for words. especially when she slides in and sets her coffees down. barely two breaths and she's there smiling at you. Jimin sits next to you, tilting his body almost over yours.

A moment passes in the silence where you take her in.

"What? Aren't you happy to see me? No warm welcome this time?" Her smile is like that of a cat. She already has a coffee, two of them in her hands.

Something isn't right. Somethings wrong. You don't know what it is as you look up at her. You stay quiet.

"Aren't you going to invite me to sit?"

Your brain finally gets back online, through the roaring in your ears. your voice sounds strange. Professional even to you. "Somehow I think you will anyway."

She sits, and Jimin's body is taught like a rubber band waiting to snap. Hands under the table, glaring at her like he wants to kill her. He probably does. He's probably already planning it.

Think think think, come on.

“It’s nice to see you happy, though less nice that it’s not with us.” Moonbyul’s words are almost acidic in how she spits them. Bitter. More bitter than she should be.

You grip the sleeves of your sweatshirt for comfort and you watch her nostrils flare, you wonder if she can smell Hobi on it. Suddenly- you don’t like the idea that she might know his scent, that she’d know any of your pack’s scents. Tae's included. She'd scented you so heavily earlier there's no way Moonbyul doesn't smell her on you.

You still feel like a schoolgirl under her gaze. But you’re not the same shattered omega you were when you needed their help to survive. And that has never been clearer than right now.

(If you’re being honest. You never did need her help. yoongi is the one who made sure you survived, she's just the one who helped you get revenge)

“I am happy,” it’s a simple fact but it only seems to anger them more. as her smile falters.

“Bullshit” she says delicately. (Did the snake in Eden whisper or shout? To what voice and tone is temptation but this, an unwanted earworm.) She tilts her head. "If you were happy, you wouldn't need Sharon. Or should I say- Dr. Rima."

You go cold, dripping fear seeping down your back. You swallow back your questions. It doesn't surprise you, that was one of the things that Geumjae always coached you about- not going to the authorities, not saying anything to anyone who might talk. How long has she been in Moonbyul’s pocket is another question that you'll answer later.

You feel strangely hollow at the betrayal. Hollower still when she looks at you, smiling. red lips lifting. She can tell she's unnerving you. Beside Jimin, you quake. His hand goes firm on your wrist. Squeezing once before he lets go.

The click of a knocking pin on a gun is unmistakable. Jimin smiles, resting his chin on his right hand. You don’t need to ask what the other one is doing. How he got the gun out from where it was tucked in his waistband, his underarm saddles, or where it came from is inconsequential.

“Careful.” His voice is a lethal purr, the iris of his eyes glinting red from the Eddison bulbs over the countertop. Reflecting them. “I’ll take a lot of jabs lying down but a threat” Jimin murmurs. “That might make me angry.”

Moonbyul does not look unnerved by Jimin’s exterior the falling of his most delicate disguise. Jimin looks and smells lethal, but so does Moonbyul. “You seem to be enjoying the claws my organization awards you, remember who sharpens them will you.” She makes a flippant movement with her hands. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Bullshit” Jimin parrots, “she’s my omega.”

Moonbyul laughs at that, loud enough that it drags the attention to you from other tables. A small pup is sitting across the isle from you with it's parents, a fluffy teadybear onsie pulled around its wiggling feet. Babbling and waving its hands, excited and making eye contact.

Your hand finds Jimin’s under the table, hand on the gun, making him put it away. Desperate. “Not here Minnie. Not-“

“If anyone has a claim on her, it’s certainly not alpha trash like you.” You can sense Jimin’s anger growing thinner, the tether between action and complacency going taught. You make your eyes wider, your scent sweeter, furrowing your eyebrows at Moonbyul like you’re just some confused little omega pup. You know the effect your scent has on alphas, and you hope the sweetness is enough for both of them.

“If you really care about me, shouldn’t my happiness be the thing you prioritize?”

Moonbyul searches for her phone and finds it in her wallet, checking it before she puts it around her shoulder. behaving like there isn't a loaded Gun pointing right at her abdomen. The chain jingles and you notice it’s the same make and model of wallet that Jimin bought you so many months ago, for your first courting date. You met her in such a similar circumstance that night.

You wonder how much she knows, how much she's been watching you. the intel she's gathered.

“You sound like you’re reciting something that they’ve told you.” she reaches across the table and cups your cheek. Her nails, they’re not normal, you can feel it the second they touch your cheeks, they’re metal-tipped, not just the usual gel extensions. “If your alphas ever tell you that, you should know they’re lying.”

Her fingers dig a little, and Jimin reaches across the table and yanks her wrist. Slapping it. They're both standing, alpha aggression urged into action before you have a chance to process what's happening. Standing between them until Jimin effortlessly puts you behind his back. Growing larger in the small space. He's the same size as her but it doesn't feel that way, his scent so obtrusive that several people around you fall quiet.

She flicks her hand, but she doesn’t scratch you hard enough to draw blood.

And then the truth: she hisses, it spits it, something feral and dangerous in her eyes that you only saw in those moments in her nest what feels like years ago. That nest never felt like the omegas or Hyejin's. Any nest that was ever in their den always felt like hers. Moonbyul is the kind of alpha that claims everything she touches and your cheeks burn where she held you.

“You should have never been Yoongi’s. You should have known that and returned to us in a timely manner.”

Once upon a time, you would have felt safe enough to say what you thought around Moonbyul and her pack but that time has long past. To call them hostile is an understatement. You’re not an idiot, no matter what they might think of you or how many years younger you might be.

“I’m not convinced that you met us here unintentionally.”

Moonbyul hums, all but a confession. She disengages with Jimin almost instantly. “We’ll be seeing more of each other soon.” She reaches across the table to get both of her coffee cups. A flourish of her wool coat sends her peppermint scent fluffing over yours, and you shrivel your nose.

You’d have thought that Moonbyul’s anger would smell stronger, but honestly- she just smells sickly sweet, like the first pop of peppermint gum. Almost crumbly. Like the fake snow that they put on fake Christmas trees. Artificial.

Her metal-tipped fingers tighten the waistband on her coat. She looks at you while she tightens it.

She turns without another word and seconds later the door is clanging and Jungkook is there, shirt rucked up and not wearing his jacket, sweaty abbs on display probably just because he’s overheated from running here. His grin is boyish when he spots both you and Jimin. Popping out his headphones, walking past Moonbyul, not her any mind even though you hold your breath.

“God Wonho put me through my fucking paces today, had us do this wicked circuit-” Jungkook’s expression falls, exercise high fading when he takes in you and Jimin, the anxious edge to your scents, “What's wrong?! Both of you look-” you struggle, and Jimin muscles his way around you.

“Just- bad therapy session.” You choke out. Still reeling.

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes go bunny wide, “oh- just here-“ Jungkook pulls you in, nuzzling over your hairline, scenting you a little.

In the window, you can see them. Hyejin is there, the person who Moonbyul must have been meeting. The other coffee is in her hands now. You watch as her hand tightens around the paper cup. Crushing it and sending hot milky liquid onto the concrete. In the thrum of people, it's hardly noticed. Jungkook scent marks over the top of your head and Moonbyul pulls Hyejin into a waiting blacked-out car that quickly speeds off.

Jimin watches it too, stoic.

“I think she’s going into heat,” Jimin says, lying effortlessly. Jungkook instantly straightens. Leaning in to sniff at your shoulder.

"Minnie, I don't-"

“Stay with her here while I get the car.” It's in the garage, top floor. Jimin is already moving, gun stowed away. Jungkook’s hands tighten on the top of your arms.

“Wait!” you struggle, Jungkook’s eyes on you, you settle, “alpha I can’t- can’t be separated from you.”

there is no emotion on jimin's face, none at all. “No- too dangerous.”

If you let Jimin go alone, something bad is going to happen. You can feel it in your bones. You slip out of Jungkook’s grasp, hovering in the doorway, cold air billowing around you as Jimin heads off down the sidewalk.

“Stay here Jungkook. I’m serious, don’t move.” whatever jungkook says is swallowed by the door closing behind you. You chase after Jimin. He’s walking briskly, just fast enough that it doesn’t draw suspicion in the crowd. If you had to call his walk something, you'd call it a prowl.

“Go back and stay with Jungkook.”

“It’s crowded there, he’ll be fine.”

“You know other people don’t mean shit. I’ve killed people in more crowded places.” It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, but the same might not be true for us. The unwritten confession, but you can’t be sure.

“No.”

Jimin hovers, a feeling rocking through him, and then he’s tugging you along, shucking his jacket off in one fluid movement. There is a bulge in his baggy sweater, the gun hidden by the excess fabric. you wonder if Jimin favors clothes twice as big because he needs them this way.

You can see the subtle criss cross of the bands under his shirt. The leather jacket is heavy on your shoulders and stiffer, Your fingers flutter across it.

"It’s reinforced with body armor- not enough to stop a bullet at point blank, but a far-off shot-“ he cuts through the crowd of people. It’s after work now, and the streets are thick with window shoppers intending to get an early start on holiday shopping.

Above you the sky hovers, darker, the clouds closing in. Snow starts to fall, fluttering by your eyes sticking to Hobi's black sweatshirt. The first of the year. Your walk to the car is tense and quick, your short legs struggling to keep up as Jimin pulls you along. One Hand itching always ready to yank out the gun from his back pocket. The other circling your wrist.

Your footsteps echo in the near-empty car garage. You almost fall over at the lurch of the elevator. He scans the cars before he jeastures for you that it's safe to come out.

He opens the door of his car for you, the back seat this time. You slide into the warm interior. The seat beneath you is still warm.

You freeze.

Jimin’s body goes ridged. Palm sliding across the leather. Feeling it for himself. You share a glance. Not a muscle in your body moves. You don’t shift a muscle.

“They’d never.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. As far as things he could have anticipated for tonight car bombs are not one of them. But every wicked thing is fair game when it comes to people connected to Yoongi’s family.

Jimin hasn’t had to remind himself that you are one of them for a long long time. You look so scared as he looks down at you. He promises himself right then and there that they’ll pay for this. They’ll pay for making you this scared.

“Can you get out of the car the same way you got in?” Your leg is still balanced on the concrete. You slide your weight across the seat and then sit up as carefully as you can, and the second your ass clears the base Jimin is picking you up and running away from the car. Behind one of the concrete columns, his body blocking you, pinning you there cheek pressed to the cold concrete.

You wait ten seconds, and then twenty. Both of you breathing, watching, waiting.

Nothing happens.

“Jimin maybe we should just-“

Later- you’ll be able to separate what happens from the sensations that assault you. You’ll realize that it wasn’t Jimin’s car that blew up but a sedan a few rows back. You’ll remember that the force of the blast sent the car hurtling up a dozen feet, shattering nearly every window nearby and setting off dozens of car alarms. They must have taken great care to shut off the video cameras in the carepark before they planned the bomb.

For a second all you feel is weightlessness and heat.

The blast knocks you nearly off your feet, hitting you and Jimin from the side. You'd have been thrown if it wasn't for Jimin. You bang hard into the wall an inch away from your face thrown up against it..

You feel the heat and burn fromt he fire- but mostly just Jimin’s body pressed to you until the sound ends. There is ringing in your ears. Jimin pins you where you stand, his body covering all of you, a bit of shrapnel leaves a gash in the concrete above you. Narrowly missing you.

You taste blood, but you’re blinking, the heat from the fire drying out your eyes.

The tinkle of glass falling around you is the first thing you hear beyond the ringing in your ears. Jimin's distraught face inches from yours shaking your shoulders. Just ringing. There is a bit of glass in his hair that shakes loose and falls onto you.

“Are you hurt- are you-” his hands touch everywhere, your chest, your arms, letting out a single heavy breath when he finds no blood, no nothing.

There are alarms are going off, not just the cars but the fire alarms. The fire rages. The car still burns barely a dozen meters from you. you watch as the one next to it starts to burn too.

Far away, someone shouts, far away you can already hear sirens. You touch your chin, there is blood on your fingers.

Your phone fell from your pocket in the blast, and Jimin scoops it up as he heards you into the car, practically throwing you into the back, there is a text message lighting up the screen from a number you don’t recognize. Jimin shouts at you to keep your head down while you look at your phone. backing up the car, tapping the one behind it before he peels off.

Unknown (5:21): I’d never hurt you. I’d never leave you for dead like he did.

Jimin shouts something at you but you can't respond. Speeding out of the car park so quickly that he almost causes an accident as he cuts someone off. Sparks flying as he hits a low part in the concreete.

Unknown (5:21): I didn’t put a bomb in his car, just

Unknown (5:21): Take this as a warning baby <3

You look up, looking back at Jimin, pealing out of the he’s pulling you up. Shouting something you can’t hear over the roaring in your ears. Your hands shake, still holding the bulletproof jacket over your shoulders. Jimin has his gun in one hand and is steering with the other.

Your blood chills as you scroll down your notifications

Jungkook (5:20) (Missed call)

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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Birthday list &lt;;3

idk why the idea of the whole pack showering togethar makes me??? so flustered??? like- fuckkkk don't think of the visuals if you don't want to stare off into space

okay so the rat part might seem esoteric and upsetting BUT i really really need you to remember it, because in a chapter or two the m/c is going to refrence it.

i was also missing jin lots and lots in this chapter because i realize we haven't had a jin focoused chapter in a bit so 🥺

"there is no love without mutually assured distruction" jesus christ this might be my favorite line in this chapter.

i wrote almost all of this chapter tearing through dominic fikes discography in particular the song think fast. idk but theres something about it that is just so !!!! very bily!!!!

i must actually be loosing fat volume in my ass because this is the first day EVER that sitting for +10 plus hours editing bily has hurt my booty 🥺 yes it actually does take me that long to write this.

honestly writing moonbyul in felt like a jumpscare lol

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The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 8

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Jimin yawned as he sat up from the awkward angle that he fell asleep in. It had been another night of working for him. In his drunken stupor, he had gotten rid of his jacket and fell asleep in his shirt and pants.

“Hey, you.” Jimin said, sticking his head out the window to a maid that was cleaning the backyard.

“Young master Jimin.” She immediately stood up straight and bowed.

“Bring my breakfast to my room and an iced black coffee. I’ll be in the shower, leave it on my desk.” Jimin pulled his head back in and went to take a nice, hot shower. The smell of old alcohol and blood dissipated and was replaced with the smell of fresh soap.

“Exactly what I needed.” Jimin came out, a towel over his shoulder to prevent his dripping hair from wetting his shirt. He saw the tray of hot food and sat down to dig in.

“Chim? You’re up?” Taehyung poked his head into the room.

“Oh, Tae. Yeah... I just woke up. I didn’t get in until this morning.” Jimin blinked as he took a sip of the hot soup. That settled his churning stomach.

“I heard. Namjoon hyung said to expect that we will be more busy but we still have to try to lay low.” Taehyung groaned in annoyance, falling onto the back of Jimin’s bed, arms spread as he stared at the ceiling.

“Your informant is dead, by the way.”

“What happened?” Taehyung hoisted himself up onto his elbows to look at the back of his best friend’s head.

“Not sure. I went to the meeting point like you said. His body was already cold, waiting for me to find. He was probably ratted out by someone. The injuries look like a mafia’s execution style. His jaw was broken from someone stomping on the back of his head and a single gunshot wound right through the skull.” Jimin described.

“Damn, it’s getting harder to find good informants nowadays. Ones that actually stay hidden and anonymous. No biggie, I’ll just try to scout another person.” Taehyung clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“That’s what you get for having lackeys as your informants. Do they even get you anything useful?”

“They get me what I need underground, I guess. Plus, lackeys are easier to convert than long time workers.” Taehyung shrugged.

“Oh yeah. Apparently, there was a visitor to one of my clubs. They can’t describe the guy but someone handed my bartender this in the stack of bills during payment.” Jimin went to retrieve something from his jacket pocket.

“Hmmm.” Taehyung held the card.

“What does it mean?” Jimin asked as he sat back down to continue his meal. There was no reply, making him turn to his best friend. Taehyung was deep in thought, a slight frown on his face.

“Tae?”

“This card... It’s the Judgement card. The angel, sent by God, to judge who is eligible to enter heaven. Someone is going to declare a war soon and judgement will be upon us all, to decide who lives and who dies.” Taehyung spoke stoicly as he stood up.

“If Namjoon hyung asks, don’t tell him about the card yet. Until I can find out more.” He said to Jimin, who nodded his head.

“This message was meant for me. I don’t know why but to send a message in the form of a card...” Taehyung trailed off at the end of his sentence. Without another word, he left the room.

“I’m done with my food. You can clear my room now.” Jimin informed the butler when he emerged from his room.

“Yes, young master.” The butler bowed.

“Do you guys know where Namjoon hyung is?” Jimin asked Jungkook and Hoseok, who were engrossed on their video game, too busy trying to kill the other person’s character.

“He’s at the lab. Has some big meeting with the guys in the defense department of the government to work on some prototype or something.” Jungkook said.

“Oh.”

“He hasn’t been to the lab in forever things are all backed up there. They’re asking Namjoon hyung to consuilt and invest in their new chemical weapon testing.” He explained.

“He had a message for you. He said ‘give the note to Yoongi hyung’, whatever that means.” Hoseok added. Jimin hummed as an acknowledgement and went to find the second oldest. Yoongi was squinting at his piano book, trying to read the sheet music to play on his piano. He reached over to grab his crystal whiskey glass to take a sip.

“Yoongi hyung? It’s Jimin, I have something for you.” Jimin knocked on the door. Yoongi’s fingers stopped, resting on the black and white keys. He knew why Jimin was here, Namjoon had informed him prior.

“Come in.” He replied.

“Here. Namjoon hyung said to hand this to you.” Jimin took the folded paper out of his pocket and placed it on the piano.

“Thanks.” Yoongi took the paper and unfolded it, his eyes scanning the contents. Jimin tilted his head, he didn’t know what the names and numbers on the paper meant.

“What’s it for?”

“It’s a hit list. We’re not sure whose hit list it is but since the names are members of the same political faction, it’s obvious that there is some sort of political motive to get rid of them.” Yoongi explained.

“So what are we going to do?” Jimin asked.

“Protect the bigger names, kill the smaller ones before the actual hitman can get to them. Create confusion for the actual person that ordered the hit. You, Jungkook and I will be mobilised when the plan is in action.” Yoongi informed and Jimin nodded his head, understanding.

The three of them were the hitmen of the group. Of course, everyone knew how to wield a weapon but the three of them were usually responsible for the more violent missions.

“I won’t disturb you further. Bye.” Jimin waved and left. Yoongi watched the younger leave and shut the door.

‘I got the list from Jimin. It’s a big one. - Yoongi’

Namjoon looked at the text on his phone. He let out a sigh of relief, grateful for Jimin’s skills in retrieving the list. He put the device away and turned back to the defence minister.

“Of course, I trust that all this will be kept under wraps?” The minister turned to Namjoon.

“You’re the one that sought us out to invest in your little project, Mr Park. I should be the one concerned with the secrecy, not you. Don’t you think?” Namjoon chuckled. At the slight taunt in his voice, the defence minister’s guards stepped up but the old man held his hand up to stop him. He nodded in agreement with Namjoon.

“Definitely. Your investment and expertise will be a big help to the development and testing of our new prototype. The outsourced labs we’ve partnered with just isn’t cutting it.” The minister clicked his tongue.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to put them down. They do have the backing of the government and they know how to keep a good image in front of the public.”

“That’s true. But I know you will get me the results I want, Mr Kim.” The minister gave Namjoon a knowing smile.

“I look forward to working with you then.” He held his hand out.

“Not so fast.” Namjoon raised his eyebrow at the outstretched hand. The minister withdrew his hand, waiting for Namjoon to continue speaking. No way will Namjoon strike a deal that easily.

“I want the profiles of those working the team and prototype. Background checks. Can’t be too careless with potential moles working with other people.” Namjoon explained.

“Understandable. I will get my secretary to send them over to you.”

“You’ll get your contract signature after those profiles are looked over.” Namjoon said. The same guard from before stepped up.

“Someone’s a little on edge, isn’t he” Namjoon smirked with a slight tilt of the head.

“Forgive him, Mr Kim. He’s new to the job and doesn’t know how these things work. There’s no intention to disrespect.” The defence minister said. He turned to the guard, nodding over to Namjoon. That was the signal for him to bow and apologise to Namjoon.

“If that’s all, I look forward to the next time we speak. Maybe then, you’ll be a bit more accustomed to this.” Namjoon patted the guard’s shoulder, who stiffened up.

“Thank you for your time in seeing us. Hopefully, we get a good partnership out of this.” The defence minister shook hands with Namjoon.

“We’ll see.” Namjoon raised his eyebrows.

The car came to a stop and the worker jogged out, opening the car door for Taehyung. He sighed and came out, entering the shop. The receptionist stood up from her post and bowed deeply to him.

“Boss.” Two of Taehyung’s men stood up and bowed as Taehyung walked deeper into the store.

“We lost another informant yesterday. So either they’re not very good secret keepers or there is a mole amongst us, leaking out information on who the informants are.” Taehyung said, sitting down on his throne-like chair. All this was covered by the curtain separating the store front and the usual ‘consultation’ area of the shop.

“I want you all to find the mole. Go!” Taehyung barked. The two men nodded fearfully, bowing and running out of there.

“Tch.” Taehyung kicked his feet up onto the table, resting them on the purple velvet tablecloth. He took out the card that Jimin gave him earlier, spinning it between his fingers.

“Judgement day is coming.” He said quietly to himself.

RINGGGGGGG

“V’s Fortune Telling and Tarot Reading. How can I help you?... Do you have an appointment?... I understand, please hold.” Taehyung heard the receptionist answer the phone at the front of the shop. The receptionist poked her head behind to curtain, making Taehyung sit up.

“Boss. It’s for you.” She handed the phone over to Taehyung. It must have been a notable person for her to not handle the call herself like she usually does. He looked at the number and recognised it immediately.

“Mr President. I wasn’t expecting a call from you. How can I help?” Taehyung smirked as he spoke into the phone.

After passing the phone over, the receptionist immediately bowed out of the curtained area and walked to the front, turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and drawing the privacy curtains.

‘Hi, (y/n)! I’m apparently the only one with your number so I was asked to send you a message. Would you like to join my brothers and I for dinner tomorrow night? - Taehyung’

You drummed your fingers on your desk as you thought about what to reply, how were you supposed to craft your reply and you didn’t know if you wanted to say that you would go or not. Of course, your schedule was free, your plan was to just do university work. But did you want to go?

“Hey. You okay?” Wonwoo waved his hand in front of your face when he noticed you spacing out.

“Did you just run a marathon? You’re panting so heavily.” You chuckled, acting completely normal as you turned your phone screen to hide the message pop up from Taehyung.

“The dance teacher let us go late. I thought I wouldn’t have time to shower before coming.” He shook his head with a tired sigh.

“Because your performance evaluations are coming up?”

“Yeah. But I’m confident my team and I can do it. They’re all really talented and hardworking.” Wonwoo said.

“I’m sure you’re just as talented as they are, Woo. I haven’t seen you all perform before but I am sure you are all very good.” You smiled. You have seen Wonwoo rap, dance and play instruments before, he was really talented.

“Actually, tomorrow we’re having this small performance in the studio and students are welcomed to come watch. Sort of like rehearsal for us too. It’ll be after school at about 4pm. Are you free to come?” He asked. You thought back to the dinner plans that Taehyung just invited you for. Maybe you could go after watching Wonwoo.

“Sure. Save me a seat.” You nodded your head. Wonwoo smiled excitedly and gave you a thumbs up. The professor came in and began the class.

After class, you made sure to remember to text Taehyung back with your reply for tomorrow’s dinner plans. The plan was for you to be picked up from the university then get ready at their place before going for dinner.

‘Where will we be going for dinner? - (y/n)’

‘It’s a surprise so I can’t tell you. If you need the dress code, hmm… I would say dress smart casual. It isn’t too fancy. - Taehyung’

“That doesn’t help at all.” You sighed. Not because of the vague dress code but you wanted to do some research before the dinner. You wanted to know what to expect, in terms of behaviour and type of food.

‘Don’t worry too much. It’s just a casual dinner :) See you tomorrow! - Taehyung’

It was as if he knew exactly what you were fretting about. You were supposed to go home with Wonwoo but when you arrived at the front of the university, there were girls surrounding him, giggling and chatting about how excited they were to see him perform tomorrow.

“The bus it is.” You didn’t hold it against him. Even in high school, Wonwoo was very popular with the girls. There was no doubt that he was handsome and girls were always jealous of you being friends with him.

“Hey, (y/n). I’m at the front of the university. Where are you?”

“Oh, hey Wonwoo! I saw that you were busy so I decided to just take the bus home. I didn’t want to take you away from your friends.” You said as you tapped your card.

“I’m sorry, (y/n)... I promised to drop you home but those people just surrounded me. Where are you now?”

“No need to apologise, it’s fine. Really. I’m already on the way home.” You assured him.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You and Wonwoo bid each other goodbye before hanging up. While on the bus, you decided to look at the promotional announcements for your nearby supermarket. With everything you’ve been doing, the house was in serious need of some restocking. So instead of going home, you got off at the stop near the supermarket.

“Good evening.” You grabbed a cart and greeted the staff that were out restocking. You followed your list in picking up what you needed, both food and household items.

“Pasta.” You looked at all the shapes available on the shelf. Going to the shelf, you tiptoed to try and get the box down.

“Let me help.” Someone appeared behind you, reaching up to get the box.

“Thank you.” You received the box with a bow of your head. After he saved you the other night, you haven’t really spoken to him. You didn’t really know how he felt about you. Plus, you were a little awkward.

“What brings you here, Hoseok sshi?” You blinked.

“I was in the area for work. Stopped by to get our youngest some snacks.” He explained, gesturing to his basket of snacks.

“And (y/n)? Just call me Hoseok.” He smiled. You nodded your head, clearing your throat while looking away. You continued walking and Hoseok walked beside you.

“Do you mind me tagging along?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Do you usually end university at this time?” He tilted his head.

"No, it differs depending on the class and meetings after.” You replied. Hoseok grabbed what he needed and waited patiently for you, helping you carry the heavy stuff to load into your shopping cart. He didn’t really make an effort to force a conversation, which you were grateful for.

“I’m done.” You informed him. He nodded and you both headed for the cash register to pay for your items. Like the gentleman he was, Hoseok let you go first, even if you had more things.

“Here-”

“No. Please, these are my household stuff. I can pay for them myself.” You stopped him from giving his credit card over.

“Here you go. Thank you.” You handed your own card over to the cashier, who bagged everything up for you. As she bagged, you put the stuff bag into your cart to wheel out. Hoseok helped you while the cashier scanned his items.

“I’ll drop you home. It’ll be too heavy to carry everything and take the bus.” Hoseok offered.

“Thank you.” You shot him a small smile.

“Done. Let’s go.” Hoseok got his bags and you pushed the cart, following him to his car. Fortunately, Hoseok decided to drive a bigger car to work rather than one of the two seater sportscars.

Once everything was loaded, Hoseok began to drive back to your home. Unlike Taehyung, he listened to soft rap music in the car. You looked out the window at the setting sun and noticed people rushing after getting off work. Luckily Hoseok had bumped into you and was able to send you back. Or else you would have to carry everything in a crowded bus.

“Let me help you off load the items.” Hoseok said as he put the car in park outside your house.

“There’s no need! You’ve helped me more than enough. Even saving me from having to ride in a crowded bus with my things. Really, I appreciate it.” You shook your hands.

“It’s alright. Jungkook can afford to wait for his snacks. He won’t starve.” Hoseok laughed, grabbing the bags and walking up to your house. You quickly ran forward to unlock the door for him.

“You can just leave them here.” You pointed to the kitchen table.

“Thank you again, Hoseok sshi.” You bowed repeatedly once everything was brought into the house.

“Don’t keep thanking me, (y/n). It’s really no big deal. Also, I said to just call me Hoseok. Drop the formalities.” He smiled. His smile was rather infectious, making you smile too.

“I’m glad you’re not feeling awkward or uncomfortable with me after what happened last time. Because I want to assure you that I won’t judge or anything. It was a moment of vulnerability for you and I would never tease you over it.” Hoseok said.

“O-Oh... right... I was just feeling embarrassed by my reaction to it.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s normal to be scared. And I’m glad you could count on us, or at least Taehyung, to help you.” He said.

“It was the only person I could think of at that time. And I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if you guys didn’t come in time.” You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Don’t scare yourself.” He patted your shoulder and you nodded, relaxing immediately.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner?”

“Yes. I look forward to it.” You giggled. You walked Hoseok to the door, awkwardly waving and watching him drive off before heading back into the house to unpack the groceries.

~~

Series Masterlist

Ko-Fi

Main masterlist

💜💜💜

So What? | MYG | Masterlist

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

Total WC: 31473

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @prwprwprwpr @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle @ldysmfrst @idkjustlovingbts @popcatx0 @yoonjinsgirl @marblemoonstones

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

🐈‍⬛

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 59)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi need to break each other one more time before you're ready to heal together. Hobi needs to leave.

Tags: Angst, implied self-harm, m/c tries but doesn't actually hurt herself, burns, gaslighting, triggers, PTSD, dissociation, depersonalization, hurt/comfort, fluff, lots of tears, confessions, severe depression, self-esteem issues, allusions to past sexual abuse, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, I promise it's not quite as angsty as it sounds,

W/c: 20.3k

A/N: this is the darkest chapter i've written of bily, but it's also probably the most hopeful one too <3 a lot of the more hopeful lines were inspired by those little fancy tik tok slideshows so i can't take complete credit. Don't hurt yourself with this though. Check the end of the chapter for some more notes!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

It takes three days for you and Jungkook to talk it out, and when you do- it’s mostly because of Hobi.

Hoseok's just coming home from work, his jacket bundled to his cheeks to keep out the cold. He’s surprised when it’s not just Noodle waiting for him on the front porch but you too lounging stubbornly on the outdoor furniture (if anyone could lounge stubbornly, you would manage too).

It's so fucking cold outside. It's hard to believe just a few weeks ago any of you left the house without thought.

Your hair's ruffled like you’ve been sleeping through the steady fall breeze, tempting Hobi’s fingers, covered with the biggest and thickest duvet that the pack has to offer. The living room curtains move; Yoongi's been watching you. He probably tried to convince you to nap inside, out of the cold.

Hobi can't help but agree; You’re unwilling to relinquish one of your favorite napping spots despite the crispy leaves gathering on the deck like dust bunnies. The blanket can't possibly be keeping you warm enough. Hobi makes his footsteps soft when he walks close. A vaguely disproved rumble builds in his throat and he pulls the blanket up higher, tucking it around your cheeks.

“Yoongi got me a heating pad.”

Hobi jumps, hand over his heart. You crack one eye, a smile building, “Jesus fucking Christ- I thought you were asleep-” he flops down onto the chair next to you, trying to settle his heartbeat. He still smells faintly sour, the sweetness in his caramel scent going burnt.

“If me being cold is why you’re upset, get in line.” Hobi flushes and the living room window curtain moves again. He's a little chagrined at being found out. But you don’t tease him anymore, wordlessly peeling back the covers and letting him in.

The inside of your little nesting bundle is suprisingly toasty. Your body hot to the touch when you lean against Hobi’s shoulder. Playing with his hand under the cover while he talks about everything and nothing in particular. Hobi’s job mostly. What he did today. The people they had in at the shop. everything.

You’d told Hobi a few nights ago (hushed like your care instructions are a proprietary secret) that sometimes you just like being talked at without any sort of need to respond beyond a hum or nod. Like when Tae talks about all the books she's reading. It’s soothing, just listening to him.

You sit like until the doorknob Jingles, in that faintly metallic broken way it’s always had.

Jungkook comes to the door, his pretty dark eyes hope wide. Announcing his presence with a little noise that sounds a little…off, like Jungkook’s already preparing himself for something unpleasant.

That unpleasant thing being you probably.

It's been 3 days since your ill-advised rendezvous in the old bedroom turned sex dungeon and you still haven't said more than a word to each other in passing. You look away, avoiding his eye contact.

“Hey,” he licks his lips, voice falling, pussying out at the last second when he sees you're not alone. He'd taken your request not to tell anyone to heart but that only makes this more difficult. Jungkook has always been shy when it comes to difficult but necessary things. He's a little too used to the others facilitating these kinds of conversations.

“Either of you want to go for a run er-“ He scratches at the nape of his neck looking at you pointedly, “Walk?” You sigh and after half a breath Hobi responds for you. Hand tangling with yours under the covers, the comforting touch hidden.

“I think we’re okay, I’m a bit tired,” Hobi says.

It's not exactly a lie; Both of you had stayed up pretty late last night after your nightmare woke you. Watching funny TikTok's that had you breathing short heavy breaths of air against his neck. As close to a laugh as you can ever get when you're sad. But he knows you won’t say it, that you won't respond to Jungkook. On a good day, you have trouble articulating your wants.

It’s been a few days since you’ve had a good day. A few weeks, if Hobi’s being honest.

Everyone had also sort of noticed, that you and Jungkook have been orbiting each other like planets the same way Jimin and Tae keep their distance these days. Although their distance is more an emotional one and less of a physical one like yours and Jungkook's. Tae and Jimin are a lot better at pretending that nothing's wrong.

Jungkook's hopeful smile falls. But he nods, blinking rapidly before he thuds down the stairs to start stretching his body. His tight black shirt hugging places that are distracting even on the easiest of days and today is no different.

Only now, it feels like you're not allowed to look.

“Okay, something happened- you usually aren’t so quiet around Koo- spill” Hobi nudges your shoulder with his. “Jungkook definitely is not all sad bunny without reason.”

“You are such a gossip.”

“Gossiping is supposed to be good for your neural pathways.”

“You sound like Namjoon.” You don’t want to say it, don’t want to talk about it.

You’re not sure what you expect but Hobi tickling the information out of you isn’t it. But his fingers creep up your sides, voice uncharacteristically whiney as they dig into your soft spots, makeing you squirm.

“Come on just tell me,”

The giggle startles out of your chest and you scuffle trying unsuccessfully to twist out of the way of his hands. you hold his hands away from you so that he won’t dig them into your sides. Laughing, both of you half-splayed on the outdoor furniture. The blanket starting to pull onto the floor. It’s so cold today- but where Hobi’s hands dig into your sides you’re warm.

The two of you miss Jungkook's singular longing look.

“Alright- alright fine. Just- stop.” Hobi listens immediately. Sitting back and pulling you back to sitting by your wrists. He’s feeling a little too accomplished, the hum of alpha made omega submit like a flame flickering through his blood.

He always feels a little too accomplished when he makes you smile, when he makes you laugh, and when he makes you better. He feels a little too accomplished when he can make you happy and no one else can not even your mate.

(but that particular thought will only be useful a few days from now- You stupid idiot alpha.)

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you start. keeping your voice down so that jungkook won't overhear. “Jungkook- the other day, we were uhm, having sex” Hobi reaches up and zips up your sweatshirt, it's another one of his that you’ve taken to wearing religiously. The one with sewn-in patches on the front.

“Oh, you’re blushing.”

You bury your nose in the blanket. “Shut up- am not.”

“Just spit it out,” He teases. At least you have the energy to tease me back today.

You sigh, resting your cheek sort of across his knee, although the blanket cushions you too. it takes you a second before you start. “I gave- or well- tried to give him a blowjob. But I started crying in the middle of it.”

Hobi winces, trying to school his face into a mask of impassivity. He might be getting a little too used to you crying with how the last few nights have gone. But he understands why the shift might have been startling for Jungkook.

It’s hard to keep speaking but Hobi's hand in yours makes it easier. “He keeps trying to apologize, but there’s nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who pushed myself when I knew I shouldn't have. it's my fault, not his."

“You don’t really believe that do you?” Hobi feels vaguely sick, and he can tell from your looking away that maybe you do.

“I don’t know if it works that way. Apologizes can’t cancel each other out. He doesn't need to say he's sorry, I just need to get over myself.”

Hobi slips out from the blanket, braving the cold after being curled up with your warmth feels particularly chilling. He calls Jungkook’s name just as he starts to run. Luckily, he's barely 5 paces down the sidewalk.

“Koo! Wait up! We’re gonna put on warmer clothes.”

“What are you doing?” You hiss, whisper hushed. Hobi’s already pulling the thick blue blanket off of you extinguishing your protective barrier of warmth. He helps you up with a handout because Jung Hoseok is a gentleman under all of his delicately artful streetwear. His jeans today have painted sunflowers on them. They complement the yellow beach trees behind him and his auburn sweater stunningly. His smile feels just as bright.

If you were a plant, I’d put you where it’s sunniest.

He doesn't know when he started looking for excuses to hold your hands, but he does so right now, tugging you inside.

“I don’t think you should leave this; I think you need to talk it out. Don’t be like Tae and Jimin.” You whine at that but only because it’s true. Tae and Jimin have been dancing around each other for weeks and are showing no signs of getting better.

Jungkook is only too happy to turn his run into a walk. The three of you must look like quite the trio. You in your too-large pink sweatpants and Hobi’s sweatshirt (an extra sweater added underneath that Yoongi had been only too happy to provide). Jungkook in one of his form-fitting all-black jogging outfits that hugs all of his muscles. He favors the expensive athleisure because it’s sort of his job to look effortlessly sporty. And Hobi in his paint splattered- ripped at the hem- baggy jeans and orange beanie. Ears sticking out at the side.

The cold wind whips at the three of you as you walk.

Your muscles burn, thighs aching as you climb the hills. Another reminder of something you need to work on. But they slow their pace to accommodate you. “Joonie and I used to drive late through this neighborhood just to look at all of the old houses."

It’s a bright fall day, and the houses do look awfully pretty with all of their colorful frames and shutters and scrolling woodwork. It’s a reminder of what your house probably looked like half a century ago, what it probably will look like if Yoongi has any say in the matter and completes his dream of fully restoring it.

The cold air burns your lungs. You’re not talking about it until you are until it’s all you can talk about. Hobi’s not sure how he ended up in the middle between the two of you as you and Jungkook sort of shout at each other. It’s not shouting exactly, just the tenseness of raised voices that echo across the concrete and asphalt, startling a mean-looking calico cat that sits on the edge of a rock wall.

“It’s not your fault Kookie-“

“If it's not mine then it’s certainly not yours.” Bratting out won’t help this, you aren’t someone who Koo can or should brat to. His tone is the kind he uses with Namjoon and Jin when he’s feeling like he needs a strong hand- and Hobi is too aware of how lacking in strength you are right now.

Hobi flicks Jungkook on the shoulder. “Be nice, you’re both just stressed about this.” Hobi’s a good mediator. It’s good that he stays between the two of you when you talk like this.

Jungkook kicks at a rock and it scatters with a sharp sound, “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you didn’t like it? I just- I’ve been struggling to get it.”

“Because-“ you break off, wondering if it’s painfully honest or just plain painful to admit this. The truth won’t change even if what you say does. Maybe you owe it to Jungkook, to be honest with this. “Because- What you want matters more to me than what I want.”

A frustrated groan slips his lips, “Okay but why? Why is that? Maybe it just makes me selfish but l can’t imagine. Help me understand-”

You pucker your lips and Hobi knows it’s because deep down you think an awful lot of bad things about yourself. Hobi is only too familiar with those kinds of thoughts, how they built and built, and eventually condemn you to behaviors far worse. If you don’t believe that you deserve things like food and kindness- then it’s easier to believe you don’t deserve things like a choice in what happens- you don’t deserve agency. Hobi understands without having to ask.

But Jungkook doesn’t.

“Jungkook, I’m trying not to call you privileged but there are certain things with you that are given that aren’t with me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, annoyed that your argument has become this, “yeah? Like what-”

“You’ve always been pretty and looked after in your relationships Kookie-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah but you’re pretty too-”

Your hands are tightened into little fists, “You don’t get it, those things are not a given with me. They weren't until you guys. It’s hard for me to believe in our relationship the same way you do, It's why I make like fucked up choices sometimes. I can't forget it- I had to fight for every inch and even now- even though I have everything I need I can’t stop fighting or else it will go away forever. That's what it feels like, even though i know it's not- it feels like i still have to make sure-" you make a frustrates sound,

"People like me do not get things without giving something up Jungkook, that's what i've been taught until now." Jungkook starts to argue, to say that they won't go away and yet you snap at him. "You never had to fight in the first place. So doing things I don't want to gain that security- it's a sacrifice I've always been willing to make."

Thinking thoughts like that is a lot more damaging than Jungkook realizes, but Hobi knows. You’ve had this exact conversation before. Maybe Hobi should step in and put more than just his physical body between the two of you. Maybe he should do something to stop this from charting into unsafe territory.

"That's like- so fucking shitty."

"It's not shitty, it's just a fack Jungkook."

"No- I meant that's shitty of you to say about yourself and about us."

Hobi knows that what you’re trying to describe is not the same thing as hating yourself or fearing you aren’t worth love. Because secretly worrying is different than knowing it as a truth.

Truth and Secret. Two sides of the same coin.

But maybe as the people who love you and are trying to help you, maybe trying to be worth something for yourself and not them, is what they’re owed.

You won’t get anywhere, you won’t get better, if you keep thinking and believing this. it might be up to them to get you started, but once you’re standing on your own two feet you’ll have miles to go. Hobi knows. Because he’s a few years further along with this- this mental rehabilitation of your sense of self than you are.

You need to at least do something about your dysmally low self-esteem. And that something isn't letting them walk all over it. Hobi’s not sure he should be the one to tell you that. Maybe Jin should, or Yoongi.

Hobi's not sure you're ready to hear that yet.

Yeah- Yoongi should be the one. Wanting someone you love to start loving themselves is never an easy predicament.

"You- you're their baby Kookie." Is all you say, like that justifies it. “You’re their baby and they give you everything you want. So don’t blame me for following in their footsteps.”

“Yeah- but I'm also my own person!” Jungkook stops walking wrapping his arms around his elbows. But Hobi knows he’s not cold. Now that you’re moving he hardly feels the breeze. You, on the other hand, are still shivery.

“You don't get it! If you told me tomorrow that you never wanted to touch me again it would be okay- I’d get it and we'd all get over it."

Jungkook is not looking at your face when he says it. “You say you’re not given the same things as me, but you’re not even letting me give you that. I’m equally as capable of making choices for the betterment of the pack as you are, I’m equally as capable of deciding what I think needs to happen. That is not just a one-sided conversation. I don’t want you to-"

He breaks off, frustrated at the ability of his words to accurately help, to heal. This has never been what Jungkook's good at. The stone that Jungkook’s been kicking, small and round and grey, sits between your worn shoes.

“That’s not the point of all of this is what I’m trying to say. Love is a process, not a single event and it's not just one sided. We need to be able to give and take, and take and give. None of us just want to take from you until you've got no more left.”

You have picked up one bad habit from Namjoon it seems (Namjoon's the worst offender, but Jin and Yoongi and basically everyone else in the pack treat Jungkook like this from time to time, it's hard not too- when he's as sick as he is.)

You forget sometimes, that Jungkook is not fragile. Regardless of his health issues and the strain it puts on him. He is both older than you and just as capable of handling things on his own. Probably a little bit more capable honestly, given your general mental difficulties.

('Mental difficulties' is a kind way of saying that you're fucking useless on one of your sad days, but tomato tamato.)

There is a rotting pumpkin on the sidewalk, it looks like one of the neighborhood kids must have kicked it in. You kind of feel like that.

“I’m sorry for making you do that, for making something happen on terms that you didn’t agree to.”

“I’m sorry for not checking in with you part way through, for not double checking.”

Hobi steps back so that you can hug Jungkook, and Jungkook feels very very warm underneath the thin cloth. Muscles working off their energy, he nuzzles into the side of your face, Jungkook smells best in fall time- honey-dripping from autumn leaves. All golden too.

The heavy goldenrod sways. And you feel a little lighter. Just a little. You don’t know if it’s enough. From behind Jungkook’s back, Hobi smiles at you. Wide and genuine- the kind that lights up his whole face and makes your chest feel all fluttery. And when you pull back it’s you that ends up in the middle of your trio. You feel boxed in in a good way, both of their shoulders towering above you, barely at eye level with Jungkook’s.

When a car comes close and the sidewalk gets narrow, Hobi presses both of you closer to the grass. Jungkook grabs the back of your sweatshirt when you stumble over a crack in the concrete.

“I know it kind of defeats the purpose of exercise and it's cold but, wanna get some ice cream?”

"Fuck yes.”

“Can we cuddle when we get back? Post-walk cuddles are the best.”

“Of course we can Koo.”

You walk a little farther into town, you're already very close. A few streets down is Hobi’s flower shop and he’s very familiar with this area. The dusty old sweetshop has been in this town probably longer than any of you have been alive. with pink rubber linoleum and eggshell blue walls. The shop smells like waffle cones, freshly pressed and bubbling. Smells like the tail end of summer- you're honestly a little bit surprised that they're open this far after the official close of the season.

Both of them pause at the door. Noses lifting, breathing in deep. A delighted pur slips past Jungkook's lips, and a happy alpha grumble stirs in Hoseok's chest.

Hobi doesn’t know how he never placed it, but it’s your scent. Your scent is not just warm baking bread although that’s what you smell like usually when your happiness has mellowed out to a neutral humm. But this- the warm waffle sweetness on the air- that’s what you smell like when you’re happy. When you laugh. When you smile.

Hobi's teeth ache.

For a second, he and Jungkook just stand in it. Basking. Your cheeks are two pink splotches, like pieces of cherry saltwater taffy. “Don’t you dare say anything.” You hiss, shy and a bit embarrassed. The air around you gets imperceptibly sweeter and Jungkook steps up to the counter to order once you tell him what you want. Hobi grabs your hand, squeezing it lightly.

You raise your eyebrow at him, feeling lighter than you have in days. You know it won't last, but still.

“Do you still have that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

~-~

You’re right. It doesn’t last.

Eventually, your sadness reaches its boiling point. It always bubbles over one way or another.

It’s bad that it’s just another fucking ordinary day, isn’t it? How messy. How inelegant of you, that sadness should consume you on a random fucking morning.

It’s Tuesday and the world is ending, but the world has always been ending for you, hasn’t it? Your life has been a slow apocalypse. Things have always been harder than they should be for you and that’s the real tragedy in this. If you could only learn to keep your head down it might be easier.

Do not worry. The worrying is going to kill you. (This isn’t just a lesson for you, but a lesson for me too.)

You need to break. You and Hobi need to break again before you heal right. Like a broken bone or a pair of broken hearts that need setting. You’re never going to get there without a little bit of violence.

It’s so strange how quickly everything turns, one day you’re okay and then the next you’re not. You wish that there was a rhyme or reason, that everything could just be fixed with love.

On this particular Tuesday, that violence comes for you.

It’s been 19 mornings since you and Hobi held each other’s hands and found a dead body and on this day you feel like you’re wading through sludge. Head all fuzzy, like a corpse that wasn’t ever found and instead buried in muck and crawling things. Buzzing around your head are errant thoughts.

Things like hide hide hide, can’t let them know, can’t show sad or else, or else or else or else. The unseen consequences hover there, like a ghost in the corner, hungry and bitter. Waiting for you to show your belly. Waiting until they can hurt the most.

You never thought you’d feel afraid of breathing too loud again. But as you feel the pack get up around you, you struggle to keep your breathing measured and even. Playing dead.

Yoongi’s there, you can tell because he pulls you onto his chest when Tae has to scoot around you, his long hair brushing the top of your head when he buries his nose in your hair. and murmurs that he'll be down in a minute. Everyone else has already woken up and started the process of getting ready for work. The nest is faintly warm in spots. But you wouldn’t know- having curled your knees to your chest to take up as little space as possible.

He strokes your back, waiting so that you're not alone when you wake. You fake it for as long as you can. Reluctantly turning to press your face into his chest and hide when you know for certain it's only him there and that everyone else has already gone downstairs for breakfast.

He kisses your forhead and then your eyelids and then your mating mark. Feeling the even beat of your blood against his skin like a promise, like salvation.

“It’s gonna pass. You know it will.” Yoongi says, soft because he can tell you’re shaking with the effort of hiding it. Your eyes are glassy when he pulls back to get his eyes on you. Each of his touches is reassuring and gentle, feather-light as he pets down your arms to your wrists, pulling your arms around him. permission to cling, permission to hug him like you need too.

But it feels like there's a bubble between Yoongi's hands and your body. Each of his touches just another layer of skin or clothes away. Too far to touch.

“My little love, my sweetheart,” he says, voice rough. Searching your eyes for a hint of the usual you. Persing his lips when he finds little of it.

You’ve got pretty eyes, Yoongi doesn’t say that often enough. Although he’s heard Tae compliment them. They're even beautiful when they're like this- all spaced out. Frightfully blank and absent of their usual twinkle. Like you’re not able to concentrate on anything. Dissociating.

Yoongi’s body feels too small to properly guard you. Like an eggshell cradling careful golden yolk and bland milky white. Keeping you tucked around his ribcage won't keep you safe. As alive and necessary as his heart is, soft and warm here and just as prone to bleeding.

You struggle. Barely breathing around it. And Yoongi’s heart lurches. His gripping going frantic. He's just about to tell you not to struggle today (you don't need to speak if it's going to hurt) when you finally choke out.

“I’m fine.”

It's whisper soft and Yoongi hums in agreement even if he knows you’re anything but. If you need the certainty of saying that, then he’s going to let you have it.

Maybe that’s his first mistake, letting you act like nothing is wrong when it so clearly is.

"I can do it," you tell him when he moves to help you get dressed for the day. He's worried you won't do it if he doesn't make you but you want to tell him you're not a fucking child. Even that seems like it would take too much speaking. Too much effort.

He goes down the stairs first. Leaving you to pull on a thin sweater and then Hobi’s sweatshirt over it. You cried into the hem of his other one last night, the one with the patches on it that's your favorite. Now it sits on the floor like a discarded corpse. You debate putting it on but it smells too much like you. Too much like Nightmare and not enough like sunshine.

If Jin were here and not downstairs already and if you were capable of speaking maybe he'd recite some careful statistic. Is this another poorly studied omegan behavior? Wrapping scented items around you like a nest that you can take with you wherever you go. Something that omegas do when they feel truly threatened.

But nests are supposed to keep the bad things out, and the only bad thing in this house is currently wrapped in Hobi's sweatshirt. Standing in the dressing room like a ghost. The pink walls look greyer by the second like you're leaching the color from them. Trying not to burst into tears for no reason at all.

People don't cry over their favorite sweatshirt being dirty.

You're cold, your fingers went numb the second that you detangled yourself from Yoongi and the nest. the second that hobi left from it really. When Hobi leaves he takes your warmth with him.

You wonder when that happened, when his clothes started to smell like you, and yours started to smell like him. You don’t want to think of the implications of that today, your heart is too heavy with fear to carry any love.

Jungkook’s In the entryway when Yoongi goes down. Tying his shoes and getting ready to leave for his early class. He says good morning while he stuffs his work out bag with not one but 3 protein shakes,

Namjoon left very early for a surgery but the entryway still smells faintly of the pack alpha. His coffee scent twined with the smell of a freshly brewed pot. The faint gurgle of it finishing echoes off the tall ceilings.

Yoongi woke up with him, had watched as he spent an extra few minutes pressed along your spine speaking softly over your sleeping form. Words hushed and secret like confession or maybe a wish. If you could absorb Namjoon’s encouragement via osmosis, it would have worked by now. His voice gentle enough to keep off the nightmares, a dream catcher of sorts.

"You're doing so well pup, I'm so proud of you, each day that you get up and you try- you're so strong. I know it's hard- I know you're so tired, but try one more time for me today, okay? I love you so much. I can't wait to see you when I get home."

Yoongi watches him get ready from the steps, watching Jungkook tie his shoes. Feeling lucky to do so. Jungkook looks up, sees him, and smiles. It’s short-lived.

“How’s today, from 1-10?” He's asked the same thing every morning this week, although you'd never guessed it and Yoongi would never tell on him.

“Probably a 4,” he sighs, lying a little because you're honestly at a 3 at best. But if Jungkook thinks that you've gotten worse since yesterday then he'll just spend the whole day worrying over it. Stressing when his texts go unanswered. Yoongi hasn't seen you even touch your cell phone since yesterday morning.

Jungkook sighs, resting his head on the banister so Yoongi can run his fingers through his hair. No matter how much he wants to stay home and help Yoongi look after you he can’t. It never feels good leaving when a packmate is in distress. The rest of the pack are in the same predicament and Yoongi knows it. Their day jobs are an ever-present pain in their asses. Especially with a packmate so obviously in need of their care.

“She’ll probably want to sleep until you get home. Go, I’ve got this.” Yoongi is too used to this, too used to corralling you like a fragile ghost.

Jungkook knows Yoongi has this in hand but still, since the other day, he’s felt at least partially responsible. But Yoongi doesn’t know about the blowjob. He might never know. If you don’t want to tell him then Jungkook won’t. You've gone mostly back to normal since the other say, and Jungkook won't make this worse.

Yoongi checks on you when you don't immediately come downstairs, unsurprised that you've decided to go back to sleep. You sleep and sleep and sleep. Through breakfast and then lunch. Until Yoongi can no longer concentrate on the space downstairs, and the gnawing of the mating mark disturbs his quiet. He's only halfway through framing out the exterior walls. He takes a plate up to you and sits by you as you struggle through it. Finally convincing you to at least come downstairs and sit where he can watch you.

Hobi would take you out for ice cream if he was home, knowing you’d lick up a Sunday in a heartbeat. That’s what he’d do. But Yoongi just pokes at your plate and tells you to take one more bite.

It’s a little pathetic (a lot pathetic really) how bad you are at taking care of yourself when you get sad. But hours slip by like minutes. Trickling through your fingers.

You don’t really know what you do in the afternoon. The moments pass foggy; there are pieces of sea glass on the table outside. The porch is drafty and cold. When did the birdfeeder run out of seed? there is a small bird looking at you, pudgy grey and brown, its beak makes no noise. It turns its head wondering if you're food or foe or statue.

The floor is all messy with fallen leaves and the window boxes don't have flowers in them anymore.

You watch the autumn light bounce through the red maple and it's leaves until your pack comes home. One kiss a piece on the top of your head.

Tae’s finger rubs your forehead the next time you're really aware. Her nail scratches against your scalp. “Sorry, I got a little bit of lipstick on you." She pulls you from the outside furniture and ushers your cold body inside. Noodle follows, was he sitting in your lap? His tail raised behind him like a warning flag.

When the pack comes home, they bring with them bags of food, because Jin and Jimin had gone to get groceries after work hadn’t they? That stings a little.

Over the last few months, you've developed something of a routine with Jin and Yoongi. It's become a habit to make an outing out of the small things because you like the small things. The little domestic indulgence of going to the store with the people you love. Getting asked to go get things that they've forgotten. Like a little scavenger hunt. You can’t remember if they offered to come home and pick you up. Maybe Yoongi told them you weren’t up for it today.

You’re hurt until you check your phone.

Jinnie: (5:01 pm): Hey, Minnie and I are gonna go to Costco after work, wanna come? we can swing by the house on our way through.

Jinnie: (5:06 pm): You know how much he loves the parfaits.

Jinnie: (5:23): Pup?

Jinnie: (5:30) (Missed call)

Minnie &lt;3 (5:32) (Missed call)

Jinnie: (5:35): Just let me know okay? I’ll bring you one home if you want!

Minnie &lt;3: (6:45) (Missed call)

Jinnie (6:47): Minnie got you one anyway <3

You stare down at the missed calls, wondering what else you've forgotten and what else you've missed. It feels like you’re suffocating slowly but the others aren’t. The hard edge of your phone digs into the side of your hand as you hold it tight.

The others seem perfectly content with the amount of oxygen in the room so you’re sure it must all be in your head. They rush around you, at 3x speed and you slowed down to a reverb. Jungkook laughs and hugs you to his chest, moving you out of their way with a hug because they've got a lot to unload and you're in the way.

You are taking up necessary space. Too underfoot, Too close. Too needy.

You pretend that there is nothing to be worried about.

Yoongi's been getting dinner ready, probably since he made you come downstairs, you help him while he directs the others because the idea of curling up in the other room and doing nothing seems just as terrible as performing domestic labor. Yoongi abandons the pots on the stove after asking you to look after them.

That’s what this is, isn’t it? A performance. Smile and no one will think anything’s wrong. Lean into Jin’s touch and say you’re sorry for not responding because that’s what he expects. Take a bite of Jimin's parfait when he hands it to you even though you can't really taste it, the sweet friction of raspberry against your tongue, the tang of spoiled dairy. Leave it on the counter when he walks away, but only when he turns his back.

It’s a delicate balance, and you meditate your scent to be as unoffensive as possible. Dissociating so lightly and gently that you know you hardly smell anything. You don’t want tonight to be a bad night. You won’t let it.

Even Namjoon ducks down, sniffing curiously at your neck, once quick, and then deeper, “You’re not wearing blockers, are you?”

You can’t let him know, can’t let anyone know. “Of course not,” Namjoon surveys you and you can tell your ruse isn’t believed. You hasten to make another excuse. “I feel like I have a bit of a cold coming on, it’s probably just allergies.” Speaking when you need to lie, when you feel like you're dying, is frightfully easy.

You are almost keen and lean into his touch when he puts a hand on your forehead. Stupid omegan impulses. You already need so much care, just this touch is enough to make you whine for more. Namjoon’s touches are in high demand and in short supply. You won't take them from the others.

“You don’t feel warm.” He sucks on his cheek, eyes flickering to the door where Jimin waits, arms ladened with bags, asking for help.

You feel like time is slipping away. Slipping faster than you are.

You might as well be frozen at the bottom of a like because it feels like nothing can reach you here. Not Jin’s kind looks or the pregnant glance they share over your head. The parfait sits on the counter gathering condensation. “You should have it before dinner,” Jimin says, ignoring Jin’s usual rule of dinner first desert second. Even Jin doesn’t comment. You just hum in response. Stirring the pot carefully.

Jungkook has to ask you three times if you think that the fruit's fine on the counter or if it should go in the pantry. When he asks you what’s wrong you say that you’re just distracted- even though that’s really not it. The pell mell tumbling of your mind is the one thing you can’t escape. Everything is just below the surface, still water on top and a riptide below. You have never been more focused on making yourself small.

Not enough, it’s never enough, why haven’t you been putting more effort into this, why haven’t you been doing more? It’s so easy for them and yet so hard for you. Why are you being a baby, why can’t you get over this? Why are you taking up so much space?

You’d really been hoping that maybe just maybe- you’d be able to keep it like this. You can't shake the fear they’re gonna start pulling away from you soon. How many more times will you miss Jin's calls before he stops calling? You know they're tired of this. Tired of you. With every little sweet word they say. Every time Namjoon bends down to peck your cheek before he goes outside to unload, pausing in between each trip.

Everything is perfect and idyllic and fine with the pack But it doesn't feel that way.

You don’t need to be needy when you already take so much. They can hardly get one night of uninterrupted sleep because of you. Maybe you should start sleeping downstairs.

Don’t look at me like that, don’t look at me like you can tell that something's wrong. Don't look, don't look, don't look.

You make yourself help. Muscles straining, a little dizzy, and that’s because you didn’t eat earlier, right? You sway, and Jimin watches you. comes near. Knuckles rubbing against your spine, you don't look at his face, keeping your gaze trained on the food. "You wanna go cuddle on the couch pup? You don't need to do this, I can-"

"Jiminie? Where did you put the bag of sushi rice? I can't find it and I wanna put all the grains in the same place." You are not the only one with food related anxiety. Jungkook's tense face appears in the doorway and jimin's necessary concern is thankfully diverted.

You put on a brave face, "You can go, I've got this" Jimin looks like he doesn't believe you. But Jungkook is obviously stressed about this impromptu re-organization.

But there are bags and bags of food; more than you and Yoongi ever needed when it was just the two of you. It's probably two grocery carts full at minimum. With the amount they eat it will barely last a week.

There will be another chance, you know there will be. Jin smiles at you when he comes inside, lips tugging at his cheeks in that familiar beautiful way. His button-down shirt rolled up at the elbows. To his credit, it only looks a little strained. It goes genuine when you burrow into his chest, nuzzling in that small pupish way that you know he likes.

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage, it doesn’t feel like enough. You shake, but Jin only leans against the counter and pulls you properly to his chest while the others rush by, Jimin’s car is packed to the brim.

“It’s okay pup” Jin noses along your shoulder and you tilt your chin letting him drink deep. He offers no other sweet supplications. No other encouragements, and oh- that stings. Because any other day he’d have some little joke or jab that would make you smile. Any other day he’d stay with you and let the others do the unloading, but today, he just kisses your forehead as he lets you go.

How selfish of you, to expect more when it’s clear that Jin is giving you as much as he can right now. How selfish of you to expect anything with you are so incapable of giving anything of substance in return.

The spread of pots on the range is what you’d expect from a meal meant to feed eight people. There’s a pot full of soup to warm you up from the inside out and a shallow pan with oil. Rice cooking fills the air with warm clean steam. The breaded chicken bubbles and pops, covered by a screen that Yoongi had told you not to get too close to because of possible oil splashes.

It could hurt he said. Be careful.

There’s even a salad on the side, the cucumber chopped into pretty little chunks. Feta cheese and a few different kinds of dressing at the ready. The knife on the cutting board is sharp and capable, but that’s not what you’d go for.

Yoongi tries to organize your packmates into putting the right things away in the right place rather than just leaving them in a vague state of disarray. He and Jin are a little particular about how they keep the kitchen. Their distracted, not focusing on you even when they come close.

Only one packmate lingers in your vicinity. The snack cabinet in particular is a little too full of half-open chip bags and Hoseok is given the task to throw out the old ones (who’s really going to eat the crumbs anyway?). They’ll replace them with the new bags of gluten-free rice crackers and other things that Jungkook can eat. He’s less likely to go for the sugary and salty snacks that the pack keeps in the pantry if he has his seizure-safe ones close at hand.

Maybe it's tricking him into eating healthy, but the pack is good at that- gently guiding you all into healthier behaviors. Doing the same thing to you too. Keeping sweets and fresh fruit out because that’s what you’re most likely to reach for. Eating a little unhealthy is better than not eating at all.

The pot is on the stove, burning. You know what burns to feel like- the clarity of pain that cuts through the confusion. This haze that you just can't seem to get rid of any other way.

Hobi comes back into the kitchen before you can do anything and you look away from the pot rapidly. He's trying to say something to you that you only hum at, “I don’t know how the fuck Jk opened up 12 different bags of Tostitos-” It’s a pitiful attempt at small talk, to get you to talk at all. What’s wrong- what aren’t you saying? Let me in.

But you just hum, stirring the pots. Hobi keeps you in his peripheries. His eye is on you. Concentrating on you as you slowly stir the pasta.

Once upon a time, you were used to the semi-constant pain in your stomach and the dizziness of hurting yourself in that way. You aren’t above pretending that not eating is anything but that. A way to hurt yourself slowly over time. If you’re going to hurt yourself you might as well be effective with it and get something out of.

Your body isn’t even worthwhile now. The last time you looked in the mirror (it’s been a few days) there was nothing but soft curved lines, from your shoulders to your hips to your calves, everything soft and cozy about you is everything that you hate.

Hurt used to be marked in the harsh lines of your hips and your ribs. A quiet pain made public. Made visible. Both evidence and remedy. A soft punishment. Even if you stopped starving yourself and started eating, the desire for hurt and the need for it has never really gone away.

But there are three ways that you hurt yourself; with food, with sex, and with this.

You feel so fucking useless. You couldn’t even respond to Jin’s texts. He deserved a response, didn’t he? He does so much for the pack- but you couldn’t even do that. You left him hanging. disappointing your pack omega is something you can't bear. Jin only wanted to try and include you in something and yet- you fucked it up. You always fuck it up.

It’s just a single momentary lapse. A re-lapse. That’s what people might call it.

Hobi says something to you but you’re not listening.

You can just touch it for a second, press the hot pot to the space between your thumb and your wrist. It will look like you’ve turned into the pot on accident. That’s what you’ll say if anyone notices later. You could probably hide the mark until tomorrow under the sleeve of Hobi’s sweatshirt. Maybe the red-hot skin will bubble so you can pick at it. Maybe you'll be able to make the hurt last a little longer.

It will hurt and then everything will be clear again. A perfect exchange. With the pain, you’ll be able to eat tonight, and then they won’t be so worried. It will keep them off your back for a little while longer. You just want to pretend for a little while longer. You might not even have a nightmare tonight. You’ll feel it every time you touch something, every time you touch them. You’ll pay for the emptiness in your chest that way. The pain both punishment and reminder.

You’re not above exchanging one bad habit for another.

You’re moving, already decided on it. Reaching towards the hot pot, bracing yourself for a momentary lash of pain and then endless ache. Bracing for it.

Hobi’s hands are crumpling up the plastic bag when he turns. Ready to throw it in the garbage can. It feels like he watches you reach for it in slow motion.

He’s moving before he’s even really registered what he’s doing. Instincts taking over, energy and adrenaline bursting. Alpha's protectiveness rankled into something that looks like putting his body between you and the pot before you have a chance to move another inch. He backs you up against the island in three smooth strides. So abruptly that he’s probably a little too rough with you.

But panic makes Hobi rough. Makes him less careful.

The stone countertop presses hard into your spine- hurting. Hobi’s hands you’re your wrists are biting and tight, your heartbeat thudding against his fingers. Holding you up, keeping you from falling as his body makes you stumble.

There’s a high-pitched buzzing in your ears, the low drone and hum like an airplane moving overhead. You look up at him.

You have never seen Hobi’s eyes this wide, dilated with fear and panic, but even now- it feels so far away. One second it is just the humming and then cacophonous, the sound of his breathing, but bubble snapping crack of oil and the smell of burning things. Not you- not your hand, just the food. Hobi’s looking down at you, horrified.

Luckily, he got to you in time.

The world tilts on its axis as you look up into Hobi’s face. Eyes wide with fear. Startled. Not there. Face stricken and a small little half-breath hitching.

There is a single moment of silence, where he should let you go, should remove his hands from around your wrists. Your heartbeat thuds against his palms. There. Beat beat beat, and Hobi’s pulse is thundering in his ears too. The beat of his soul excited and going double time to match your rhythm. Crescendo and Diminuendo all at once.

Yoongi’s at the door, watching the two of you. Behind your back.

And then all sudden, your brain is rushing over itself, panic at being discovered, a near frantic need to hide. “That wasn’t- I wasn’t” you stutter. Trying to lie when things are bad is so hard. The words caught in your throat. It’s okay, you can just pretend can’t you?

“Where you-” he can’t finish the sentence, can’t make his mouth say the words because- fuck- fuck-

He knows what you were just trying to do, he’s seen it. In the evidence of little burns on your fingers, and small bruises on your hips from 'bumping' into things. He’s seen you giggle and move away and say “I’m just clumsy” but you’re not just clumsy. It’s not just clumsiness when hurting is all that you can think about.

“I’m fine Yoongi. I’m fine- just tired.” How many times have you said that over the last few weeks? Dozens? Hundreds?

You roll your eyes in a last-ditch effort, feigning annoyance that Hobi is only too familiar with, “Hobi doesn’t know what he saw. I’m fine.”

Hobi feels like he’s just been slapped. The words sting where they land. And Oh, now that feels like a betrayal. That’s gaslighting, isn’t it? Hobi knows what you’re doing, just reacting because you feel threatened but he’s all too familiar with that sort of lying.

He’s heard it a thousand times- the last time he loved a woman- love was only like that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull away from kissing you, it’s all in your head, I know you have a hard time believing it when we say we want you, but really Hobi- we can only try so hard. What? We aren’t abusing you. All relationships are like this. You've just never been in one before.

"It’s all in your fucking head.”

And oh- oh fuck. Hobi feels like he’s about to start screaming at you. Feels like someone’s just pulled the rug out from underneath him. You are anything but fine. He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Yoongi's eyes flicker from Hobi to you, mouth settling into an unhappy line.

Hobi's breathing is shaky and brittle, loud in the quiet of everyone waiting, everyone watching. His heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s going to fall out and land at your feet.

It's yours anyway.

Oh.

Oh.

Hobi can’t breathe and love has never been crueler. But that’s the truth, isn’t it? Both you and him are frozen. Love, like Medusa’s kiss, has made you both statues. The rest of the pack is too.

Even standing there, even hurting him, Hobi still loves you. He looks at you and he aches, a bone-deep sort of wanting, a claim that not even disappointment can touch. Hobi has always been willing to compromise too much in the name of love. To be hurt by someone and still love them is a special kind of devotion.

Yoongi moves, cutting through everyone standing like statues. Yoongi gets between the two of you.

Yoongi doesn’t scruff you often, it’s just not his style. But Hobi finds himself watching every second of it as his pretty fingers close around your neck, pulling until you sag against him. Until the words get pulled from you by your mate's touch, choking out the truth from you. If anyone makes you honest it’s Yoongi.

"Nope, I'm not letting you hurt him to hurt yourself, I refuse. Try again sweetheart."

Yoongi's fingers pull the words out of you in a heaving sobbing breath. The power of the mating mark bearing down. Yoongi's beta pheromones echo out- for the first time unencumbered and unrestrained. Your knees go weak, and you bend.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry- I wasn’t-”

But all of your excuses and lies fall short. You pick your head off Yoongi’s shoulder and move, reaching out for Hobi weakly.

Hobi backs up so quickly that he bangs his hip against the kitchen island. Shaking his head. Avoiding your touch because- oh- he’s crying so hard he can’t see. Hot and furious tears wet his cheeks.

“Yeah- fuck that- fuck this- fuck you- I’m done- I’m out.”

He’s not running, but it feels like he might be as he moves to the door, yanking his jacket off of the hooks so hard he rips the collar of it. But he’s suffocating from all the scents in the room. A cacophony of sadness pulling his instincts in one direction and his mind pulling him in another. Dizzy with them.

“Hobi- wait-”

“No. I can't- can't do this.” Torn between two upset packmates, Yoongi has you and Jimin and Tae start in Hobi's direction. But he raises a finger at them in a warning. "Don't you fucking dare. I mean it."

He loves you, doesn’t he? That’s what all these moments have been, even if Hobi had never thought it. He sees every moment with you like a supercut:

You and him sitting by the ocean, his head in your lap. You and him on opposite sides of the nest, him telling you that it’s okay for you to sleep here. That moment in the oceanside shop- watching you organize his sea spoils, clutching the poem that Tae wrote. Hobi still has it somewhere didn't it say something about keeping you like one of his safe and special things in his pocket?

The moment just before when you’d almost fallen into the ocean and Hobi had felt like for a moment his heart was about to tear out of his chest in panic. When he'd scolded you for not being careful.

This feels just like that, only there are no waves to save you from. Hobi can do nothing but look at you, small and scared and so dangerous in Yoongi’s arms. being held because if he lets you go right now it might have disastrous side effects.

Hobi’s still in the supercut; The moment in the flower shop, both of you behind the frosty glass, side by side. Always next to him, in his passenger seat. Your spot.

Your spot is right next to him and his is right next to you.

How did he not realize? Why did it take him so long to notice this? This living breathing wounded thing in his chest is love. Soft and delightful and terrifying. It's a wounded love, one that needs to be looked after like a wilting flower but still- it's a garden nonetheless.

If home is not where you’re from but where you’re wanted- then does that make Hobi your home?

That first night when you’d been leaving the coffee shop and fallen, seconds before he’d fallen too. You both have matching scars on your hands from that night. Small and barely there. Hobi hardly thinks about it. They’ll certainly heal over with time. But how could he forget that you have matching scars?

Both you and Hobi have always been a mirror, the same image reversed, identical hurts but maybe not identical people, like a funhouse version of the same trauma.

Running from his emotions is simple and easy especially when it's as scary as loving someone so hurt.

Oh he doesn’t want you to hurt. He can't stand it. He loves you, standing there getting scruffed by Yoongi, crying and hurting and dying slowly. But all of you are dying slowly, so what if it takes 80 years roughly- for the dying to stick?

He loves you, and there has never been a more terrible truth. That you have hurt him maybe. The sting from you trying to gaslight him and the others is only just fading and yet- he loves you anyways.

He remembers the night you went racing when his car got dented. He should have known. He should have known when his first instinct upon verifying you were alright was to kiss you senseless.

Hobi looks at you one last time from the open door, standing there, hand on the smooth molding that Yoongi painted shortly after the pack moved in, after Namjoon had accidentally broken part of it while moving in some furniture. Every inch of this house is stitched with familiar moments like that.

How many mornings has he watched you get your coffee? Or that time you’d gotten sick after dinner and Hobi had made you tea to settle your stomach. His heart is clenching so hard at all the memories that it makes him let out a single choked sob. A broken breath.

He can’t bear it. Seeing you look so broken and trying to hide it. Reaching out to him from your mate's arms. He hates it, hates that you’re hurting. That he can’t do anything about it.

At least Yoongi is there, Yoongi will keep you from hurting yourself again. Yoongi is the only one who doesn’t shout his name. Giving Hobi his tacit permission because he knows- he must know.

Maybe Yoongi has known since the beginning.

Hoseok slams the door shut behind him.

~-~

The pack is silent for a few moments after Hobi’s departure. Stunned long enough that you can hear Hobi’s car start with that same rush of gas and nitrous oxide. Everyone is silent as it screeches away from the curb. Too fast. Howling as it tears off down the street.

Far away you think you might hear something honk at him.

They just stand there- looking at you and you feel like you’re under a microscope. Yoongi steps away from you, cupping your cheeks. “Oh pup.”

But your pleas get softer and softer. Jimin is the first one to move, not to you but to the food first. Turning off the burners and pushing the pots back, away from where anyone could touch them. Dismantling the threats before he tends to you.

Jin moves next, because Jimin doesn't go far enough- clearing the pot clear off the counter and dumping them into the sink- food and all. Anything to cool the metal down. anything to make that threat inert as quick as possible.

Yoongi has big rough hands that cup your cheeks, murmuring soft sweet nothings as you cry and cry. Maybe these tears are the ones you choked back. Every time something violent happened to you with Geumjae, after every backhanded slap and forward-facing insult finally released. You saved your tears away for this moment when the sadness wouldn’t stick.

If you bottle up the sadness, it has to get out somehow.

Namjoon beats the rest of them to you. Crossing the room and enveloping you and Yoongi in his long arms. just as quickly you're not just wrapped up in him but everyone. Jungkook all but throws the milk onto the counter in favor of literally trying to pick you up. Tae’s wrist smells rosey where it’s pressed close across your shoulder; anything to get her hands on you. All of them close close close, and you at the center, a careful little bundle.

You say you’re sorry, again and again, but the words are met with shushes. When you are hurting so uncontrollably, what do you possibly have to be sorry for? You bite like a hurt dog, and you never blame the dog, do you? So why blame yourself for hurting, for not doing better when better is just so hard.

Being found out doesn’t feel good. None of this was ever about getting more care or concern- this feels truly awful. Your secret out in the open. Found out. You push at Yoongi’s hands, choking out, trying to be articulate but you’re so soggy.

The others resist for a second, mistaking your fighting for something else, Jimin's hands fall tentatively onto your wrists, unsure if he should hold you back. But Yoongi- Yoongi knows, looking down at you, the hair on the back of his neck curling against the nape.

“Please go- please go after him-” Yoongi doesn’t want to. You can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t want to leave you like this. Can hardly stomach leaving you.

“Sweetheart you just-“

“Yoongi.” Your voice shakes, but you need him to understand you. Hobi just slipped through the door and you want to wonder what will happen if he doesn’t come back. “Go after him- please- Please. Make sure he’s okay.” Thats what I need.

It takes Yoongi a single look to decide it's okay to leave you. He makes eye contact with Namjoon, Tae, Jimin, Jin, and Jungkook to verify that they’ve got you before he moves. Bursting into action. He’s unable to disobey a request from his mate. If this is what will make you better, if Hobi is what will make you better, then Yoongi would drag him back from the gates of hell by his goddamn ear. That stupidly fast stupid fucking car and all.

Yoongi can’t help but think that if you could see the way you look right now- if it was him in your shoes- you’d have never done this.

Yoongi’s kiss to the top of your head is a little forceful, a little tearful too. You don’t realize that he’s been crying too until he wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. Yoongi stumbles, almost falling face first and tripping over the carpet as he looks back. “Jin- Namjoon- look after her. Jimin- don’t let her out of your sight for a fucking second." Joon nods, your pack alpha easily tolerates being ordered about at a time like this.

The pack keeps their voices soft and hushed, the ruined dinner abandoned in favor of comforting an obviously upset packmate. The unanimous decision gets made to usher you upstairs. Their first priority of course is getting you somewhere away from where you could hurt yourself; a place peaceful and safe and comfort incarnate.

The nest.

You don’t know how you really end up there, on the edge of the nest, Jungkook is already inside with fresh blankets. An emergency nesting bundle is already on demand for exact situations like this. He might have said something about there already being one in the direr downstairs getting warmed up. You might have missed it. You're missing a lot of things right now.

When did things that used to feel comforting begin to feel so mundane? It’s not the same as taking it for granted, you’d give anything to be comforted by Jungkook's reassurance that he'll make the best nest he can for you.

You’d give anything to be comforted when Namjoon leans close to kiss your forehead. Lingering there, with his lips against your skin but it feels hollow. Holy mouths cradling the words of god and finding them foreign. False gods and lying prophets. Namjoon's kisses cannot cure everything.

The room is dark, only the light from the bathroom and the changing room spilling into the open space.

“Were you trying to touch the pot to hurt yourself, sweetheart?” You go statue still. Not shaking your head, not showing any sign that you’ve heard Namjoon’s careful prodding at all even though you must have heard his whispered question. Jimin’s hand goes up and down your waist, gently coaxing you into movement. How long has this been going on? How long has the pack been unaware?

“Have you hurt yourself that way before?” Your hands are both clenched into tight fists, the bones and muscles protesting. He drags your hand across his lips, kissing your fingertips, still not looking at his face.

“Don’t be angry with me- please don’t be mad Joonie-“ Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek.

“We’re not angry at you really, we’re not. I’m not. I just want to help, okay? I’m not going to scold you or punish you for this, I don’t think that would help just-” Namjoon swallows, “you’re not going to try again? Are you?” Are you a danger to yourself?

“No” you choke out, “I don’t know. I-” Your words cut off, Your hand is so small when it darts out, circling his wrist, holding on vice tight, your voice rough and ragged. “Namjoon, I think there’s something wrong with me. I think I’m sick.”

Namjoon's breath hitches, and he waits, waits for you to ask him to take you to the hospital. but it doesn't come. Namjoon holds you, his hands around your back vice-like. He can feel the frantic beat of your heart through your shirt.

“It’s okay pup, if there’s something wrong, I can fix it.”

Most of the time, he hopes it's true. This time he knows it means he’ll make it so. He hesitates for a second before detaching from you. Because if you really are sick then maybe a doctor is what you're missing. Maybe you don't need pack alpha Joonie right now, maybe you just need Dr. Kim.

“Gimme a second, okay? I’ll be right back.” You barely have time to miss him or make grabby hands because Jin takes his place the second he steps away from you. Jimin too- descends upon you as Namjoon heads downstairs, taking them two at a time. Almost barreling head-first into Tae catching her at the last second.

“Tae” her name sounds like a wretched gasp coming from Namjoon’s throat, he catches her by the elbows, “could you find me some like- some band aids or something? I have bandages in my bag but-“

Tae looks devastated, eyebrows pulling together, She lets out a shaky breath, eyes glassy, mascara already smudged. “Then she really did it then? Is that why-”

“No- gods no- thank fuck” (Namjoon does not believe in god, but he does believe in the power of Hobi, which is equally as holy in his mind.) “I’m just going to try something different than just cuddling. And I think Band-Aids might help.”

Tae whipes her tears, smudging her eyeliner too in a little panda circle. but she's emboldened with this task to complete. Determined. "Okay, bandaids- got it."

Upstairs, Jin cups your cheeks pushing back your hair from your face and rubbing the tears away with a thumb. Jimin busies himself with unzipping Hobi’s sweatshirt and pushing it off your shoulders to get a look at your arms. You know what he’s doing, checking your body efficiently for marks. Any evidence of hurt.

All of the burns on your hands are days old. Half of them actually were accidents.

Jimin's fingers linger over the burn scar on the inside of your arm, so faint it's barely darker than the color of your skin. The scar is the very first one he ever dotted with burn cream and wrapped with aloe vera. Jimin remembers the very first time he held your hands like this, the very first time he was allowed to.

Have you been hurting like this for that long?

Jimin’s jaw clenches, struggling to keep his scent comforting and mild. It’s only when he verifies that you didn’t actually just get burned a few minutes ago that he nods. Jin speaks, his voice a soft purr. Things are happening so fast, there are so many people around you and yet so few.

Their focus feels suffocating as you cry and cry and cry. He leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, and Jimin continues his careful touches up and down your arms. Soothing the skin there- treasuring it in a way he didn’t before. He'll never take it for granted again wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you snug.

“Oh, my little pup, we’ve been neglecting you haven’t we? Jinnie's so sorry" There is something achingly soft about that. No Daddy, no omega title, just Jinnie. Maybe Jin is just Jin for now. Just exactly who you need him to be. No other esoterisies or other defining egos- just your person.

He coaxes you gently to sit on the bed and half on his lap. Pulling your thighs over his hips to cradle you in a way that would be sexual any other time but isn't right now. Holding you by the back of your neck and the small of your back snug to his hips. Pressed to his chest, smack dab between his pectorals really. buffered by every uneven breath.

"There we go, come nest with me- let me- here-” The nest is the safest place for an unsafe pup. And you sag into it. Jin looms over you, a warm living waiting blanket. Even though it’s a little dark in there. Even though you don’t feel the safest, the pack still is safe, you know that logically- that has to count for something.

Despite your trying, your chest goes leash tight when Jin guides you to it. You perfunctorily start to fluff a pillow. Sniffling. Because you know what being in the nest with Jin and Jungkook usually means. Even if you really don’t have the energy for nesting right now. You perform all that you can.

Until there are arms rope tight around your waist, and a hard body behind yours. The tears drop, pitter-pattering against the coverlet and Jungkook hisses gently.

“No. Stop. Just let us do it.” Jin shakes his head too. You never thought Jungkook and Jin would tag team you like this. But you're in the middle of a Jinkook sandwich. Jungkook teeths restlessly at the back of your neck, not enough of a scruff too soothe you.

“For tonight- this is my nest and you’re my pup, it’s not your job to nest tonight, it’s not your job to do anything but let us look after you.” You gulp, nodding even though you can hardly see.

Namjoon comes back, holding his doctor's bag. You shift back to the edge of the nest where Jimin takes off your socks, feet, and cracked red nail polish that Tae did a few weeks ago on your toenails. The sole memory from a night of happiness stubbornly refusing to fade even though so much has changed.

Maybe the happiness is stubborn too- not just the fear and sadness. Namjoon smiles down at you. Plopping his bag down on the floor (not the nest- because he will not cross-contaminate it). His stethoscope has his initials on it; KNJ in little gold writing. “Alright, lean forward for me.”

You lean forward under Namjoon’s arm so that he can slide your shirt up your back and his hand too. He warms the circle of the stethoscope between his palms before he presses it to your skin.

you breathe when he guides you to do so. “You know I’m not like sick sick- what I said earlier- I didn’t mean like this.” You don’t say something like what you want to, something like mental health isn’t really on the same level as other health- like Jungkook’s seizures or Tae’s hormones. because you know they'd just argue.

Namjoon shakes his head, “Nonsense. If you say you’re sick, then I’m going to treat you like you are.” Namjoon slides the stethoscope from the bottom of your ribs to the top and then over.

“Breathe deep for me. Good pup. Doing so good for me.”

Jungkook fluffs the edge of a blanket, setting one duvet like a layer cake over top of another. “It could be sexy doctor roleplay, we haven’t done that in a while only like- without the sex.”

“Jungkook- now is so not the time.”

“Sorry.”

“Eyes up here, follow the light for me pup, good.” Somewhere between breathing deep for Namjoon and letting him put the blood pressure cuff over your arm, you've stopped crying. He double-checks when he times it. Taking it again just to be sure.

“Your bp's a little high. So no physical activity for the next few hours, it’s probably just the stress. I want to take it again when you've calmed down just to be sure.”

Namjoon gets himself into the nest, caging you in, his medical bag forgotten for now. You feel- you feel so dirty when he looks at you, dripping with sadness as he pulls himself close. Tae comes barreling up the stairs, clutching a little box in her hands, “They were in one of our beach bags, I knew I saw them somewhere weird!”

Namjoon holds out his hand and Tae hands them over. Namjoon sits on his knees, opening them up, already unwrapping one when you spy them in the half-light.

“Band-Aids? What for? I’m not- I didn’t bleed or anything.” You look down at your lap, shame, and relief tightening your fists. “Hobi stopped me.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need them.” Namjoon guides your wrist face up and applies the first one. It's just plain tan but the little baggie that Tae has a few colored ones; ones with hearts on them, even a blue Ryan one. They quickly get distributed amongst the others. Tae delicately places one on your elbow.

“That one wasn’t-“ you try to say, but Jin still presses a kiss to one on your knuckles. Jimin to the ball of your wrist.

“You’re wasting band-aids on me” but they hold your hands, diligently putting one on each little mark, each little thing that might be a mark of self-hatred so keen that you need to make it real.

“They don’t hurt anymore, I don’t even like pick at them a lot.” Jin levels you with a suspicious look. There are maybe less than a dozen little marks up and down your arms. Most of them were accidents, a few were accidents that maybe you saw coming but didn’t avoid, and about 3 or 4 were purposeful.

They don’t discriminate, putting a band-aid on each of them. All of them get covered one by one. Jungkook puts a large one- the kind meant for knee scrapes on one that’s maybe the side of a penny. “Doesn’t matter. if you’re hurting- if you were hurt- we want to fix it for you.” They cover your arms with Band-Aids, and each of them gets one or two marks to cover up, crowding around you.

They don’t even put them only on your bruises and bumps and burns but in other places too. Tae puts a tiny pink one over your mating mark, the torn part at the top of it from Geumjae’s teeth- not the smaller brighter mark in the center that’s Yoongi’s. Jin hesitates, pulling the collar of your shirt down before he puts one over your heart.

Tae watches, thinking of a poem she saw on TikTok a few days back. 'Let me love those bruises out of you, we’ll love like children with a box of bandages, we won’t ask where it hurts, we’ll just kiss all of it.' She could probably find it if she tried hard enough. Maybe later- when you’re sleeping. She already knows that the pack isn’t going to sleep much tonight. The alphas will probably want to switch on and off if anyone can even convince Jimin to sleep at all. Tae knows he’ll take Yoongi’s request of 'don’t take your eyes off of her' literally.

Jimin's on your other side hand around your waist, keeping you from scratching at your skin, maybe you did that a few seconds ago. Your skin burns a little either way. You’re having trouble keeping track of everything that’s happening. But Jimin is watching you like Yoongi said too. He hardly blinks.

When they’re done they let you put on Hobi’s sweatshirt again. Namjoon waits for it to be on all the way before he presses your hand, pulling you to sit next to him, on top of him really.

Namjoon thinks about what this house would be like- if you weren’t here. He thinks about what the pack would be like if you weren’t in it. An image that once upon a time felt complete- now makes his heart pucker sour.

Oh, my fragile little love.

resting against his chest in much the same way that you rested against Jin's, He plays with your fingers, letting you press them against his, how small they care compared to his. In another world maybe you are big and scary. Maybe this is the price you pay for being so small. Too big emotions fill your head begging to be expressed in any way they can. Namjoon plays with your hands while Jin and Jungkook make the nest.

Jungkook ducks low, nuzzling into your cheek, pausing where he was incorporating your big blue blanket tight around you.

“Do you want to like- take a shower or something? Wash the sad off?” You shake your head stubbornly, pressing your cheek further into Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if that would help.”

Jungkook pouts, trying not to be hurt that his suggestion is shut down. Your eyelashes flutter. You are not a fan of confessing things, but Jungkook deserves a lack of…whatever this is.

“I don’t- I don’t like feel clean- like ever.” Your pack waits for you to explain it further, to go into it. And it takes you a breath. You really don’t like talking about it- the grubbiness that’s always lurking just below your skin. The kind that can’t be scrubbed or burned or starved out.

"I can wash my body 100 times and it never takes away what he did from me." Your breath hitches, and you look down at the Band-Aids dotting your arms like constellations. What they hide. "He took so much, sometimes I wonder if you'd love the unamaged version of me more. Sometimes it’s so frustrating not having evidence. Not having a wound that I can nurse and heal and It just- feels better.”

You press your hands flat to your stomach, and you take their silence as something else, some sign of disgust or otherwise (when it's really just devastation. Because what else can they feel upon hearing that there is a version of you that they will never know?) Panic bubbles up and you make excuses because that's all you can do. “It’s fucked up, I know it’s fucked up- You don’t have to say it. Fuck I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m sorry-”

Jimin pulls you snug against him, your hip against his hip, and you realize Jin’s struggling to keep himself from shaking. Your thoughts and words ramble over each other when you’re like this. Anxieties unbound like a wild dog. Jin covers his mouth and turns away for a second to have a quiet freak out about it.

“Don’t apologize. I-“ Jungkook ducks away, hands tight on the blanket. A confession for a confession seems fair. Even if the others will be mad. The words come in a rush once Jungkook’s made the decision to spill them.

“Sometimes, when it feels like I haven’t had a seizure and my body needs to have one, I go to McDonald’s after work and pig out on fries so I can trigger one. Because that feels safer, having control over when I’m gonna get hurt feels safer.”

Namjoon goes deathly still. And Jungkook goes cagey, shoulders pinned to his ears. Jin finally turns back glaring at him. The whole pack glances from him to Namjoon. You wonder if this is what they feel like when they're watching you and Hobi.

“Jungkook-“ Namjoon’s tone is that of a scolding alpha, but your scent eases. You pull yourself over to Jungkook, getting your hand on his and holding it tight.

“No- I get it, I get it so much. I know exactly what you mean.”

Control, and a lack of it. It’s so scary how it can make you act. Control is sometimes more necessary than food or happiness or love.

Namjoon leans in to kiss the shell of your ear rather than shout at Kookie. You whine, a choked needy sound that quickly gets feverish when namjoon mouths at the nape of your neck. an alpha bite so close is a soothing thing.

You squirm a little, both needy and overstimulated a bit. This is the right kind of contact, the kind you usually like but you’re too restless to enjoy it properly right now.

“Do you think Hobi’s going to come back?”

“Of course, he is.”

“If Yoongi can’t get him we’d bring him back.” Jimin and Jin make pregnant eye contact, terse and dark. Harrowing.

You’re not paying attention to Jungkook looking down at his phone vibrating in his lap. “Speak of the devil” he murmurs, unheard by all, Jin gets you a cup of water and hands it to Namjoon. Who feeds sips of it to you like a baby bird.

Jungkook's phone is as bright as a passing comet, hope visible to the naked eye.

Hoe-baby (8:56): If she sleeps before I’m home you better get her a fucking nightlight or something. Don’t let it be dark when she’s sleeping. Pass it on.

Hoe-baby (8:56): Don’t tell her I’m texting you this either.

Hoe-baby (8:56): I mean it Koo

Jungkook (8:57): 👍👍👍

Jungkook (8:57): but also 👀

Hobi doesn’t respond but Jungkook is generally obedient if the stakes are high enough. An idea lights his eyes (bright and sparkly). He slips from the nest with a “one second” and heads downstairs, his absence goes uncommented on as he disappears into one of the closets, searching through winter coats and gloves and mittens for the box labeled christmas decorations.

The others keep you substantially occupied in his absence. “My pup.” Seokjin murmurs, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek. The gentle contact draws your teary eyes from the nest to meet Jin’s concerned gaze. His calming pheromones swell thicker in the air, instinctively trying to soothe you without even touching you.

How selfish it is to take this night; this could have been a good night if you’d only-

Jimin yanks you clean into his lap, and you go from sitting sort of curled up over yourself in Namjoon's lap to lounging across his body in two seconds. “Stop it.” Jimin’s words are a growl, his touch forceful as he hunches over you. “Stop whatever you’re thinking about right now and listen to us.”

His thumb slides down your cheek from your ear to your chin. “Your scent does this thing and your pupils constrict you know- when you think self-deprecating shit.”

“Sorry.” you squeak, letting him tilt your head to the side. It feels better to be under his touch, his harsh hand anchoring. “It’s just hard-I’m just,” The wobbliness of your voice betrays you.

Teeth feel sharp when they nip at the back of your neck making your legs turn to jelly. Jimin gives you another soothing nip after the first, several in quick succession- Making your scent burst sweet Just a little. it’s a start. He dips down and laps at your salty cheeks, his thumbs continuing their steady circular rhythm on your scent gland, releasing the tightness in your chest forcefully.

It’s very very hard to be sad with Jimin scruffing you like that, pulling the skin taut. Choking you a bit so that you can feel every breath. It’s settling. Makes you sniffle and teeter when he lets you go. Namjoon doesn’t pull you back to sit in a more equal position, instead watching you with a warm satisfied gaze. He nuzzles closer to Jimin’s side. Pausing to drag his cheek down the side of your head, his short-cropped hair feels all spiky.

In Jimin’s lap, a safe cradle. Namjoon’s hands skim up and down your arms, lingering on your hands. Namjoon swallows thick, there isn’t an easy way to ask. “You told me not to push you, you know, and I won’t but-” Namjoon's warm palms cover yours, “you make it a little hard not to.”

“I know.” Your throat is tight with anguish. You’re surprised you have any more tears left.

“Was there something- anything- that we did? Or didn’t do?” Namjoon has been waiting to ask about his rut, waiting for days since Hobi confessed he had his suspicions, his suspicions that obviously must be correct.

“No- there wasn’t anything, it’s just me Joonie- I promise.”

Namjoon swallows. He doesn’t like to cry and has never been an easy crier, but it's a struggle to not let them take him right now. “I wish I could fix it.”

“You do fix it." You try for a smile but fall abysmally short. You don’t trust your wobbly voice enough to speak again, and carefully snuggle into Namjoon’s chest.

You’re breathing sort of heavy, sort of shallow too, the kind of breath that sticks when it rolls beneath your rib cage and feels like a death rattle. Jimin presses his hand to your stomach, holding it like he can keep the anguish at bay. He does for a second. A silent sentinel. A guard. He’s living up to Yoongi’s orders and following them to a T like the good alpha that he is.

Jungkook reappears, clutching a green tangle in his hands, you mistake it for one of hobi's pathos vines- “hang on, I just have to check to make sure they’re working-” he plugs them in, holding the Christmas lights like a mini constellation of stars that light him up from below. All of them work. "Ah-ha!"

“What are you doing with those?”

“In the nest- Hobi-” Jungkook breaks off, worried after a second that mentioning him will reaggravate your wounds.

You sit up a little bit more, “Hobi what?”

"He texted. Said you might want some of these, for a nightlight.” Jungkook holds up the lights and they clatter into each other with a faint tinkle. they're the brightest thing in the room.

You deflate a little, but Namjoon rubs his arm up and down your side. "I'm not a kid, it's not like it's the dark it's just the nightmares-"

"For the record, none of us would judge you if you were scared of the dark."

"Yeah- Hobi's scared of snakes and I'm scared of microwaves sometimes."

"I'm scared of spiders."

"Tae- Everyone's a little scared of spiders."

"I'm not!"

Their teasing brings a small smile to your lips, even if it is a little bit wet. Namjoon ducks down to press his lips to your forehead. “He’ll be back before morning sweetheart, I promise.”

“Okay,” you look like you don’t have any more energy to argue- to be sad over this. Re-settling against Namjoon’s chest. Watching Jungkook detangle the lights while Jin ducks downstairs to get the command hooks (dissatisfied with Jungkook’s chosen thumbtacks, the last thing you need is these falling on top of you while you sleep)

Jin stands with Tae, feet depressing the nest as he helps her, passing them back and forth. Jungkook found two strings of 100, and it's more than enough to go up and down the sides of the nook a few times and crisscross the top.

“Wait- let's plug this one in over here so we can turn it on with the light switch-”

"No Jk not like that."

They go back and forth, making quick work of it. Slowly the nesting nook brightens. Not too bright, but just enough that you can see the light when your eyes flutter closed. It might not be that late, but you're bone tired.

“Are you sure? Isn’t this gonna like- keep you all awake.”

Jimin sits up, “I got you like- a million silk face masks Tae. In that one box?”

“The silk night clothes set you got me from that fancy Italian designer.” You know the one, Tae wears them a lot, you wear them too- even though her pants are a little long on you. Tae leaves and gets the night masks (stored away in a drawer where Jungkook has been putting all of her accessories in the other room).

She retrieves them, a whole handful, and leaves them by the front of the nest for everyone to pick the one they want. Jimin snags the black one. Jungkook the purple one with the red hearts and Namjoon the one with the frog eyes. Each different one, a different color. They’ll sleep with them on tonight for you if it means it makes you feel a little safer.

“Isn’t that- too much?” You ask, “We don’t have to leave them on.” Tae pulls herself over kind of sprawled across your legs, with Namjoon on one side, Jimin on the other, and Tae at your front. You’re about as safe as an omega could possibly get. Surrounded on all sides by your alpha's.

And still, you miss Hobi.

You can't believe what you did, what you said to him, even though it was in the heat of the moment.

“It’s not too much, not if it helps."

Tae sits close, holding onto your leg for a second before you switch spots, and you’re lying across Namjoon and across Jimin and across her. Namjoon’s hands tease at your skull. Big big hands that hold you and keep the world at bay while you watch Jin and Jungkook set up the Christmas lights.

They’re a little too messy where Jungkook puts them up and a little too orderly where Jin strings them but together it’s the perfect mix.

You watch them with the alpha, the pretty twinkle, the little shadows that they cast on the ceiling. Namjoon sighs “It’s kind of crazy that humans made those just cuz.”

“I was ready about death myths the other day,” Tae says, too close to the point of this all, her voice a low murmur. But her tone is casual. The idea of death has never been scary for Tae. If anything in those brief moments when she came out it felt a bit too much like salvation. you don't know what about namjoon's comment made her think of that- but tae's mind has always worked in mysterious beautiful ways.

stories always sound a little too real, a little too close to being torn into existence, when the words fall from her tongue. “In the Aztec religion they say that a dog guides you along the first like- layer of the afterlife. And if you didn’t have one in this life you can’t get across.”

“We had farm dogs, growing up,” Namjoon says, “I don’t know if that counts.”

Jungkook snorts, and at the same time you both respond, “There’s always Hobi” “Dibs on Yoongi”

One second you’re looking at each other, heads tipped back in laughter, rolling over and pressing your face into his heaving chest, and the next you’re crying. “Sorry- sorry” you’re half laughing half crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” sad and happy at the same time. it feels good, being sad-happy feels so good when you have people that take care of you in the right ways.

And still, You miss Yoongi. And still, you miss Hobi.

You curl away, getting your cheek on Tae's thigh. She must not have shaved in a few days because it feels all stubbly, but in that pleasant worn sensory sort of way. You wipe your tears on her skin and she makes a fond sound. “It’s okay baby, you cry as much as you need to- laugh as much as you need to too.”

Tae is looking at you, eyes darting from your lips to your hands to your eyes, especially when you rub your clenched fist across them, lying in her lap looking fragile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just” Tae breathes deep and slow, so that she doesn’t cry, “I just look at you, and I love you, and I just want you to be alright.”

For once in her life Tae doesn’t have the words. Sitting there with you a mess on the inside and a slightly more put togeather mess on the outside. Her bracelets jingle when she wipes her eyes.

Her chest feels too tight, too small for all the love inside of it (boobs are where the love is stored, and Tae's still a B cup at best). Butterflies flutter around her ribcage but it's always that way when she looks at you. You reach up to tangle your hand in those bracelets. They're a mess of silver chains and smaller ones that Jimin got for her. Some of them she got when she was still play-acting as a boy. She still wears them almost every day.

“More than anything, I just- I love being with you. I love being a girl with you. Being with you makes it easier to love me, and the idea that I can’t do the same for you- that hurts." Her voice quiets. "You’re so strong- I think about it a lot you know. That first day.”

You can’t stop the sad smile from tugging at your cheeks. “When I shouted at that alpha for you?”

“Yeah, that. If there was someone I could shout at, I’d scream. If there was a story I could write for you that would make you better I’d write until my fingers bleed.

"I look at you and there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for you. If I could be a dog, I’d wait to take you to the other side. I’d wait forever.” Her tears feel treacherous, unwanted, because now you’re crying again too. You start to pull yourself over to her only to have her shush you. You lie your legs across her legs and cry together, sniffling, wiping at each other’s faces. You murmur that you love her and she says it back too.

“Can you read me a story?” You sniffle, eyes darting to the others, cautious "The way you do when it's just us?" But Tae nods easily. This is easy to concede. She'd give you whatever you wanted right now regardless of the potential for judgment (the pack would never judge her, would never dream of it but the fear is still there.)

“I think I really do just need to sleep.”

Jin stoops to give you a good night's kiss. "We can talk more in the morning, once you've had some real rest."

"In the morning, when Hobi's back," you agree.

Tae detangles herself from you with a final kiss and goes downstairs, just as Jin and Jungkook finish the Christmas lights. They glitter above you in the perfect constellation of light. The perfect bright spot in the sea of darkness. You wonder what it looks like from the outside. If the people on your street can see the light up here through the windows.

Her footsteps creak on the steps, and someone knots their hand in your hair, scratching against your scalp. You don’t have to look and see who. You’re sort of hungry. Sort of nauseous too.

You’re halfway through the third book in the Percy Jackson series but Tae doesn’t bring that up. Instead, she brings her laptop.

There are stickers on the edge that she got from a makeup company, a heart with a funky face; yellow lips and straight across eyebrows, a sparkly boba one, and a tiny blue bunny. Tae sits and scoots up to sit by Namjoon. Everyone goes still, unwilling to spook Tae if it’s something that she’s ready to share.

She’s never read you her writing before and you won’t miss this chance. Jimin pulls himself along your spine, nosing at your shoulder until you turn so he can rub your back. Your shoulders are always sort of tense, always sort of hard, a sign of bad posture or post-traumatic stress disorder maybe. Constant fear and anxiety can do a whole lot of damage to your body if left unchecked.

“Switch off with me when your hands get tired yeah?” Jungkook says, and your eyes flutter as Jimin pushes you to lie belly down into the bed, it feels so soft you think it might swallow you whole. You think you’d like that a little too much. But you also think that the pack would want to know that so you say it.

“Tell us okay? when you have any more thoughts like that, we want to hear them.”

“They scare me less when I tell you them. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Tae’s left hand is in your hair and she uses her right to scroll through her Word document. Jimin’s hands work at your shoulders. Rubbing in smooth little circles finding the knots and eliminating them with a practiced ease.

“Are you- ugh, okay with starting at a part I don’t think is best, I’m really shaky on the beginning?”

“Sure-“

“Whatever part you want to read Tae,” she licks her lips. It takes her a second to find her place, scrolling past carefully spaced paragraphs and dialogue then back because the end of the story is definitely not what she's most comfortable sharing (not to mention the death scenes and that weird fight scene, Tae hates how she can't make written word feel like an action movie).

Tae’s strong suit has always been the dialogue, the in-between parts are a little bit more malleable and prone to re-working.

She takes a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the light of the Christmas lights are behind them, soft and yellow. A glow that you don’t just see but feel too.

And then Tae begins.

“Holly Homburg felt her nose to see if it was broken. It was not the first time she’d been hit in the face, and she knew it would not be the last...”

~-~

After the whole dead body incident, The pack had decided unanimously to turn on their phone locations. Yoongi's thankful for that now. Finding Hobi is not as difficult as it might have been a few short weeks ago.

Yoongi watches the little blue dot plod along and after looking around a little it's easy to tell where he's going. He follows it like a beacon ushering him across the great beyond (or perhaps the way a dog might follow a long-loved soul).

All lost things, no matter how big and broken, end up in the ocean someday.

As far as Yoongi knows this is the first time that Hobi's been back to the beach since that night. But if he cannot be close to you right now without fucking things up then maybe this is the next best place.

The ocean feels as tumultuous as Hobi’s soul, dark and teeming with hidden slimy dangerous things. Turning back and forth, a comforting lull that drowns out Hobi’s thoughts and the itch under his skin. Hobi doesn't like feeling his instincts, doesn't like that they're scratching up the wall. hoseok's alpha fights to convince him to go back, gnawing at the corner of his mind like an under stimulated dog. but there's only one thing, one person that Hobi's alpha wants, and he's not ready for that yet.

The sea tosses spray high into the air like all the words Hobi wishes he could shout and scream. White foam catches the half-full moon's light frothing with hidden violence as hungry as Hobi’s soul.

Yoongi’s beat-up sneakers sink into the sand as he slows his pace. Hoseok's on the edge of the crashing waves, his ass is probably getting wet. But Yoongi’s too worried to care about the sand in his shoes, about anything else as he rushes. Worried, worried more when he see Hoseok's wet cheeks.

Hoseok turns abruptly at the sound of him approaching, Yoongi’s hair pushed up by the sea spray. He jolts to his feet almost shoving Yoongi back with how quick and hard he grips the other's jacket. His first reaction isn’t of thanks. His first reaction is nearly shouted, an alpha barking orders. Bearing his teeth. His cheeks are wet, he's still crying. Yoongi wonders how the fuck he even drove here without crashing.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Go the fuck home.” Yoongi should be home, should be with you, comforting you in the way that only Yoongi can. There is no one you need more than him.

But Yoongi could ask him the same question. Could say the same bitter accusation. Both of them should be home.

“She asked me to come get you.” Hobi huffs, a little gentler. “Do you really think I’d have left if she hadn’t?”

Hobi twists out of yoongi's hands like even the barest mention of you is too much for him right now. “I’m not going back yet, I need-” His hands flex and clench over and over again like he doesn't know what to do with his body. But Yoongi is already pulling him back down to the sand, making to sit next to him. Hobi's knees bury themselves in the sand as he falls, brought so low as to kneel before the sea and ask it for answers. He put his hands in the cold sand, a necessary anchor for his tumultuous thoughts.

Yoongi's sitting close enough to feel his heat. It’s a cold night, not as cold as the night you found the dead body, but still cold. “Jesus Christ, you didn't have to fucking come get me. I just need a fucking minute.”

“Daisy.” Yoongi chides. Yoongi never gets frustrated and that’s part of the problem. He's always gentle, always soft. If Hobi was more like him then maybe he'd stand a chance. Hobi knows even though nothing's happened yet, that whatever love he's prepared to give you will barely hold a candle to Yoongi's sunshine.

“Okay, then I’ll sit here until you do. Keep you company.”

So much of love is just that, just keeping each other company. Hobi's cheeks burn with mortification because he knows Yoongi's watching him. Not watching the ocean. The whole point of sitting so close is that it's right there and still, Yoongi does not look away.

Hobi hasn’t even gotten his headphones, the emergency pair he always keeps in the car. He’s just there, sitting in silence and now he's being watched Which honestly makes him a little annoyed.

Yoongi sits, he sits for a good few minutes. Until he can’t handle the silence any longer.

“She didn’t mean it. You know she didn’t.” Yoongi is not one to make excuses for people behaving badly but maybe when it comes to you there isn't an excuse he wouldn't make. Hobi doesn’t know if pulled punches ever deserve a thank you.

But Hobi knows you, how many times have you talked about trauma making you feel less than human? Is it ghosts or animals that you prefer? Hobi would not blame a cornered dog for nipping. He's an alpha after all, it's hard to forget that an alpha hurt you.

Hobi wonders what Geumjae was like.

Hobi tucks his eyes below his crossed arms. One hand on either knee, Nobly and boney against Hobi’s thin fingers and knuckles. “You don’t understand hyung, but she does, she does- and she did it anyway. And- and it doesn't even matter, because-”

Anger isn’t what he’s sick with- although it might be a symptom of the larger issue. Love is never quite so easy to diagnose (Hobi has learned this mentality from Namjoon). Love is not dangerous, love is not an illness, but it feels like maybe it should be.

"Because she’s, my mate?”

"No" Hobi chokes out. The tears on his cheeks slowly swallowed the sea spray, combining with it on his cheeks. Hobi’s crying so hard he can’t see anything, can’t see the ocean or the moonlight.

"You don't understand hyung,”

The truth wrenches clean from Hobi’s chest. He’s always been too honest for his own good. Honesty feels a bit like violence when he'd rather lie. Rather keep this secret for a little while longer. He could lie- a rose colored lie insead of a white one. But the truth is pointless and hopeless, as unavoidable as the advancing tide. The ocean crashes barely a foot from Hobi's knees, every few waves it gets a little closer.

No one but Yoongi could hear Hobi shout over the sea-spray, the beach is as abandoned as the end of the world. a separate planet made only for people who love you hopelessly.

“You don’t understand hyung, I love her and she's hurting, she’s hurting and I can’t do anything to make it better."

Yoongi pulls Hobi snug along his side, holding him tight- as tight as his arms will allow. Yoongi’s never felt broader or stronger or more worthwhile as he pulls Hobi to lie next to him, holding in the pieces as they break and crumble and Hobi sobs.

"I know Daisy, I know."

"She’s dying and I can't make it better." He repeats, like a broken record on repeat.

Yoongi drags his mouth across Hobi's forehead. "Sucks, right? It hurts right where it feels good, Like a tack in a piece of gum."

Hobi laughs wetly. "That is like the weirdest fucking analogy you could think of." And yet Hobi finds himself licking his lips testing for blood. Confessing to Yoongi is the first step in all of this, although Hobi should really be saving these words for you. Telling your mate is the first necessary step.

There is no illness and there is no cure for what you're stuck with, either time will heal all wounds or it won’t. Either you’ll get better or something else down the line will send you hurtling down this same path. Hurling like a fast car without a roll cage or a burning fallen star. Time will tumble you smooth and small like the waves turn glass into sand.

Into to nothing.

Hobi is struck by how afraid he is of that. Of something making you worse, of anything taking you from this living and glowing thing in his chest. He's scared of the sadness taking you.

When Hobi was a child, his parents always worked nights.

It didn’t suck too bad. There was always food in the fridge and the bills always got paid on time. Hobi had an iPad and more than enough art supplies to keep him occupied.

But every time he came home after school it would always be to a dark house. He’d have to do it all himself; turn the lights on, do the dishes from breakfast, fix the heat in the winter and wait for the house to heat up.

But when Hobi thinks of you it feels like you’ve left a light on, burning in his heart. A safe place he can always retreat to. Someone he can think about without it hurting most of the time. A person he can love without feeling like he’s giving up something. He doesn’t know when loving you became so real and tangible and glowing, but now that he’s burning it’s hard to stop.

He remembers that moment in the car before you’d gone to the burger place that became your haunt. Your spot, besides the ocean and Hobi’s car (maybe none of these places are saturated with nostalgia, maybe Hobi can only fall in love with you once, and the fact is he’s been doing it without savoring every moment is kind of terrible to consider. He'd have appreciated every second of it if he knew).

He remembers when you said, “Can you make it just the way I like it?”

Hobi doesn’t think he can make this love just the way you like it, at least not without it hurting like this. He’s a person just like you are, full of anger and grief and a terrible furious sort of will.

There is futility in it, in knowing that love doesn’t matter if It’s not given in the right way. That love doesn’t mean shit.

"I love her, and I can't do anything to make it better." Hoseok sobs, a little quieter.

“I know” Yoongi presses their foreheads together. “Trust me, Daisy, I know.” Hobi swallows the last of his tears against Yoongi's collarbones, and Yoongi bears the sandy imprints of hobi's fingers where he gripped him.

Yoongi tangles their hands together on the sand. Grainy and gritty. It feels right for the first time since Yoongi left all those months ago. It's almost been a full year since yoongi left, almost- Hobi's pretty sure he left this weekend last year. It feels like a full circle moment, Yoongi's left and come back and everything's different.

"I think i'm ready to go home now."

The waves crash back and forth. Unforgiving and unrelenting.

“I think I am too.”

~-~

The house is quiet when Yoongi and Hoseok get home. Dark except for a faint glow in the upstairs that just might be someone awake. Tae's library room light is the only one left lit on the first floor and Yoongi shuts it off before they go upstairs while Hobi settles himself. Takes a few steadying breaths of the pack's scents in the foyer.

He still doesn't know what he's going to say, he almost doesn't want to say anything yet, but he has a feeling you're going to pull it out of him regardless of what he intends.

Everyone in the pack smells vaguely food like; Yoongi's chocolate, Jungkook's honey and Jin's cream, Namjoon's coffee and Jimin's vanilla. Tae's cinnamon And your warm baked bread sugar. It smells muted here. The pack's unhappy scents have dissipated and been replaced with a solid not sad- not happy baseline. Any sadness has long been talked through and left for another moment.

It smells like home to Hobi. It smells like you.

Hobi’s eyes twinkle when they reflect the Christmas lights upon cresting the top of the stairs. Jungkook did as asked, probably a better job than Hobi could have done. He doesn’t know why he waited so long to put this idea into action. Maybe he thought that you wouldn’t accept it. Infringing on the pack like this.

Jimin’s still up, sprawled out with you lying on his chest, shirt removed sometime during cuddling. He's leaning back against the headboard with one arm behind his head, the other cradles your cheek where it rests. Watching. Not removing his eyes from you as promised.

Hobi watches as he murmurs something soft to you, pecking your forehead gently.

You'd woken a little while ago- not from a nightmare this time. Your stomach hurts and you're vaguely hungry because you hadn’t eaten anything earlier. No one had the heart to force you. Although you were glad for it at the moment, now you kind of wish you had if only to rid yourself of this familiar hollow ache.

Jimin's eyes flicker up at the sound of someone on the stairs and his grip on your cheek goes tight for a second before Jimin recognizes the figures on the stairs. Hobi makes eye contact with Jimin first, and you follow his eyes.

The two of them stand at the top of the stairs in shadow. It doesn't scare or startle you. You'd know your mate blind.

“Hey,” Hobi whispers, a little nervous. Mindful of the others, still asleep and ringing you cuddled at the center, their chests rising and falling softly.

Jimin looks a bit like he doesn’t want to let you go when you pull yourself to the edge of the nest, half hidden behind the gauzy curtains, lit from within. A careful little bundle of light. Perfectly safe. Hoseok's instincts stops their teething.

You teeter to the edge of the nest, holding the gauzy curtains to keep yourself from falling out of it. “You- you came back” you choke out, not sure why you’re surprised.

This is Hobi’s home after all. Closer up, Hobi notes your red-rimmed eyes, your voice raw like you talked this through with them for hours before you finally slept.

You hold each other apart for another breath before you're both moving, Colliding almost with how quickly you both move to cling. Hobi stumbles, socks wet and slippery. Reaching out to hold you the second you reach back. Hobi smells like the ocean when you press your face into his jacket, fingers hooking into the rip at the collar unintentionally as you hold the back of his neck.

Your body is warm and safe and alive in his arms and he almost wants to sag in the relief of it. But the hug doesn't last, hugs never last as long as you want them to. No sooner are you squeezing him than are you pulling back, eyes swimming with tears again.

“I’m so sorry Hobi," fresh tears build and spill down your cheeks. He's already shaking his head, already denying you your apology. "I’m sorry I tried to convince them you were lying, I’m sorry I-“ You break off. “I promise I’ll never do that again.”

Hobi cups your cheek, “Jesus, this is the second time I’ve made you cry today.” But his own eyes are wet and glassy.

“You dummy. You’re allowed to make me fucking cry as many times as you want if-” Hobi holds your face, thumbs skimming the top of your cheek bones, such a tender touch.

Hobi has never touched you like this, cupping both your cheeks so gently, your body shaking with his relieved laughter. His laugh- like a breeze coaxing a fire to burn, makes a giggle build in your chest too. His hair flops when he shakes his head. Neither of you should be laughing, but you are. Bodies light in relief that the other is okay. That you're okay.

This living breathing love between the two of you is undamaged by the words you said in fear. Before Hobi came up the stairs he wasn't sure that he forgave you but now that you're in his arms, he's not even thinking about the gaslighting.

How did he not realize for so long?

His eyes flash from your eyes to your lips. “You can’t…you can’t do that anymore, okay? I think I’ll go crazy if you try and hurt yourself again- I think I’ll-” Hobi knows it’s not the right thing to say, but what else can he say? Logically? What words could he have that would ever cancel out your pain?

But he doesn't know what else to say, he just doesn't want you to hurt. Hobi can do little more than say it and then try to keep you underfoot.

“I won’t I’ll-” Resolve swells in your chest; the better-looking cousin to shame. “I’ll try. I’ll tell you when I want to so you can hold me back again, okay?” Hobi nods, eyes shining in the dark.

If they smothered you with love, would you even have time to hurt? or has distracting you from your problems only gotten you here.

He goes quiet and when you pull him into the nest, he goes easy. Staying there perched on his knees. Smelling like seawater. His hair a salty sticky tangle. Tucking his head in close, and burying his face in your shoulder again. Fingers tangling in your shirt.

Yoongi makes a soft noise noting the band-aids on your arms. Hobi didn't notice them either until he drags your arm up into the light.

You grimace. “It’s silly- I told them they didn’t need to, but-“

Yoongi shakes his head, long hair flopping. “It’s better, this is better. It’s not a waste.” Yoongi is a man of few words, and your confession and apology has made him even quieter than usual.

He likes watching people he loves fall in love. it's kinda like watching a special rom-com written just for him.

Hobi taps his fingers along the Band-Aids, thinking back to that moment. his voice is quiet but it still comes out like an accusation. "You could have told me; I was standing right there. You could have told me."

"I'm sorry i didn't say anything."

Hoseok swallows hard, "Why didn't you?"

“It’s not that I don’t ever want to tell you, it's that I don’t want to scare you. Sometimes I think things that aren’t the kindest about me." your cheek tips to the side, catching the shadow from the christmas lights, all chiaroscuro. "It’s scary.”

You are a frightened little thing, a world full of shadows and band-aids on half-healed hurts. But if there are scary shadows in your head, then Hobi will be your nightlight. “I don’t think you could ever scare me."

“I don’t want to make you worried then.”

Hobi shakes his head, stubborn. “That’s what you don’t get, when you make us worried, it doesn’t hurt. I mean of course it’s worry- but it feels good. It feels good that I'm the one who gets to worry over you. We’re a family. And I don’t just say that because it's true. I say that because I'd choose you to be my family every time. Every time I’d choose this. So, worrying kind of comes with it. It’s not just terms and conditions. Worrying about you is why I'm here, what I'm here for.”

Behind you, Yoongi nods. “Heavy things aren’t a burden if you choose to carry them.”

It's not a confession, but what do the words 'I love you' mean when the sentiment is the same? Hobi is your person. If Jimin and Tae are soulmates and so are Namjoon and Jin- then maybe you and Hobi are kind like that too.

In another world, Yoongi might never have mated you. Maybe hobi would have.

You breathe deep, letting the words wash over you, a little sick with it. A little quiet.

He tangles his hand with yours, “If you stay, I’m staying. If you hurt- I’m hurting too so- you can’t hurt me alright?” His lower lip wobbles and you lean your forehead against his.

“Alright.” You agree. Quiet with the weight of it.

Yoongi drags you into the bathroom and you brush your teeth elbow and elbow with Hobi, changing into your pajamas in silence. “You didn’t eat anything did you?” Yoongi asks, and you shake your head easily this time.

That’s how you end up eating ramen with Hobi on the bathroom floor. Lounging on the heated slate when Yoongi turns them on to keep you warm. You nibble on some of the bread that was baked for dinner and pass your chopsticks back and forth between the three of you. You don’t know if the rest of the pack ate after you fell asleep. Jin’s a little anal about it so probably. And then you brush your teeth again because really who wants to go to bed tasting like garlic and chapagetti?

“Where did you go?” Hobi drags his face wash through his bangs too- just to get rid of the salt a little.

“Our spot.”

“Oh.” You rub your hands against the flannel shorts you wear. hobi pokes your hand with his pinky, skimming up your knuckle. he feels like he can't keep from touching you, just little touches, cradling your hands when it holds the disposable chopsticks so that you don't drop a noodle, cupping your elbow when you move to get the mouth wash. Each touch heavier and needier than the last.

“Get me any sea glass?”

“Next time” he promises, hands warm with the prospect of it. Mind teaming with the idea of next time. There will always be a next time.

“I hate that we haven’t gone back since…” you trail off.

“I do too.” I hate a lot more than that, like how I can’t just fucking say it right now. Hobi wants to tell you he loves you and wants to free this slimy living thing like hope from his chest. But it's hard.

But everything is fine. He can wait a little longer.

In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is just perfectly fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine. Everything is in fact- falling together so beautifully. Hobi loves you like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Throat burning with the words he just won’t release. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you. You and Hobi can only hope.

It’s only hope afterall, how much damage can it really do?)

When you walk into the nest room, the lights are still on. The christmas lights twinkle and the pack has left all of them on for you. Tae’s sleep masks are distributed among them. Jimin's finally fallen asleep, released from his promise.

And when you get into the nest- Hobi pulls you back into the center of it. Yoongi on your other side as you burrow sleepily into Hobi's chest, head tucked a little lower than his heart. You fall asleep easily because you’re worn out a little from all that crying. Hobi stays awake a little longer. Just to make sure you don’t have another nightmare. Just to watch you sleeping soundly.

But for once, your chest rises and falls easily, your demon’s exorcised for now. If they come back, Hobi will fight them off tooth and nail. Blood and claw.

Yoongi’s hand cards through his hair, gentle enough to make the soft growl-grumble in Hobi’s chest taste like a needy keen.

“When are you going to tell her?” he asks, voice honey homey whisper soft.

“Eventually,” Hobi nibbles on his lip. Your warm breathe teases the soft skin of his neck, the first easy breaths you've taken in days. “Soon.”

Yoongi hums, a deep-seated noise of approval.

“Soon,” he agrees.

~-~

Read Tae's book: 'Girls and Other Dangerous Things' Here

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Chapter 59 notes

i can't believe it took me 700,000 words for hoseok to realize he's in love 😂 but also 💀 honestly they should have kissed, but tbh, i kinda want their verbal love confession to come after they fuck for the first time.

i love how the chapter begins with the m/c waking up to hobi taking care of her and ends with her falling asleep next to him. About a year ago some fucker on tictoc said something about ed's that triggered me into the biggest ed relapse i've ever had, and there is a moment here where the mc says something really similar in her internal monologue, I almost edited it out about a million times but decided to keep it in the end.

This is the m/c's make it or break it moment like- mentally- this is either the moment that she's going to get better or not. the moment that sort of defines her recovery in a way.

for a very very long time i have been in the place where the m/c is in this chapter, these cusps of "am i going to relapse am i going to get better?" can last for a very long time- the moments where you're not sure you're ever going to get better than then decide that it doesn't matter you still have to try anyways. its very very difficult to articulate- but i hope if you're in this place too- you just keep trying. i don't have the words or all the solutions for you. But sometimes you just need to keep what you're doing and try even when it feels terrible and useless.

During the part where the m/c is about to have her breakdown, i tried to write it with the feeling like the pack is a little further away from the scene because i don't think the m/c is aware of their movements- she's definitely heavily dissociating during that part.

the part where Namjoon gets out his doctors bag and takes the m/c's like- vital signs- is lowkey my favorite part of this chapter- baring hobi's, "you don't understand hyung" lines (which have been written for like a full year tbh) i think deep down with my recovery, the only thing i've ever wanted is to be treated like i'm as sick as it feels like i am.

I personally think it's really funny that hobi texts jk and tells him not to tell them/c that he's thinking about her and then immediately tells her exactly that. jk is so untrustworthy i sorta love him for immediately snitching. its for their own good! jk is such a little shit and it's so apart of his character.

Tae's book- ie 'girls and other dangerous things' is a story that i wrote when i was 15 and is the origin of my pen name! originally- i made this blog as a space for me to try and talk about it and post a few parts of it, i forgot about it for a few years and then when i started to get into kpop i kinda naturally put all my fandom stuff here. the truth is i would have referenced one of my other stories- like 'Don't care if it hurts' or 'Reasons wretched and divine' but i've already referenced those in this story so i needed new material and i felt like i couldn't use any of those. what a full circle moment!

I did not get to edit the end of this chapter as much as i wanted too- but thats okay, i think at this point. The people who still want to read this story are reading it to the end. i'm making it what i want- not necessarily something that will impress a bunch of people. This is just the way the story is <3 messy and complicated just like life.

as always <3

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You Pt.57

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You, Hobi, and a dead body are not things that Jin wants to think about in the same sentence.

Tags: Limited Horror, limited Gore, panic attacks, breakdowns, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol, drinking to forget, trauma, trauma bonds, Namjoon has dad energy and daddy energy, overprotective behavior, babbying, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, implied/referenced passed trauma, Short smut sections, tae’s dick is briefly referred to as a clit, trans! tae, role playing, wlw, brief virginity play, brief mention of spanking, unintended voyeurism, 

W/c: 7.7k

A/N: Ahhhhh I wasn’t happy with this chapter for the vast majority of me writing it, my life is about to get very stressful very quickly so don’t be surprised if i go mia for a few days <3 any love you can throw my way this next week will be!!! very very needed and welcome!

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

It’s nearing 5 am and the sun is only just rising.

The fog hangs over the crashing waves like a heavy shroud, reflecting the flashing blue and red lights harder, making them more vibrant. The ocean Turns deep and angry as the low tide shifts. Loud and blocking out the sound of everything, even the sirens and commotion of no less than 3 dozen FBI agents, about 8 different medical personnel, and 3 very disgruntled police officers.

You, Hobi, and a dead body are not things that Jin wants to think about in the same sentence.

Keep reading

💜💜💜

Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

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Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too